


Due for a Miracle

by growlery



Category: Bandom, Disney RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, Underage Drinking, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-30
Updated: 2011-10-30
Packaged: 2017-10-25 02:20:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/270669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/growlery/pseuds/growlery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kevin’s given up on reconciling his faith and his sexuality, resigning himself to always being caught between the two. He’s okay, though; he has a system and it works and that’s all that matters, really. Until he meets Mike, that is. Mike, who is fierce and gentle and kind of wonderful, who wants to make Kevin see that he’s worth so much more than just <i>okay</i>. Kevin just has to let him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. all these things that turn to dust

**Author's Note:**

> This is a continuation of [Grazed Knees, Heavy Hearts](http://sodamnskippy.livejournal.com/105151.html), written for . It was originally going to be an actual rewrite purely from Mike’s perspective but that didn’t work out very well, probably because this is kind of more Kevin’s story than Mike’s, honestly, so I just took the original and wrote about twenty thousand words more of it.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who liked the original fic, and to the people I talked to about this who encouraged me to carry on. I have all the love in the world for you, seriously. Special thanks to lovelyhera and gliese581 for their invaluable beta work and for the assurance that this doesn’t completely suck. I haven't heard from my artist and got back from holiday too late to try and get a pinch-hitter so there is no pretty art, but I did make a soundtrack for this that you can find [here](http://www.mediafire.com/?bu8b0ajcae412a4), if you so wish.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _give me one good reason why i should trust  
>  in all these things that turn to dust  
> when we beg we get down on our knees  
> when we fall we want to be empty_   
> **the morning afterlife; kids in glass houses**

  
**{ jonas }**   


Kevin’s been on his knees for so many boys he doesn’t even feel it any more when he sinks to the ground and takes them into his mouth. He’s numb to the roughness of the cold, hard floor, and the impact’s softened by his jeans anyway. He has other things to think about, to concentrate on, and eventually the pain fades as he sets to work.

(He only feels it after, when his mouth is empty and his chest is hollow and there’s nothing dulling the crusted edges of his conscience but the shivers wracking his body.)

It’s not- Kevin’s not doing this out of revenge, a casual _fuck you_ to the God who created him like this and had the gall to say it was wrong. It might have started off like that, but Kevin- Kevin _likes_ this. He likes the weight on his tongue and the pressure breaching the back of his throat (he figured out deep-throating pretty early on and has never been prouder of himself) and their hands fisting in his curls and tugging, hard, and the way they moan when he sucks and licks and swallows.

And he really, really likes feeling them shudder all over when they come, gasping profanities and sometimes his name. Sometimes it’s other people’s. Kevin doesn’t mind. Sometimes, they thank him and that... that he does mind, because it feels wrong to be thanked for doing something when you’ve already gotten your reward. But Kevin smiles anyway and ducks his head, and the pride bubbling in his chest temporarily quashes the guilt that curls around his lungs and squeezes tight.

  
**{ jonas }**   


Kevin’s in a bathroom of what he thinks is a gay bar, and the guy is a little rougher than the ones he usually goes for. Between the moans he gasps out things like _yeah, just like that you little slut_ and he pulls on Kevin’s hair hard enough to tug a few strands free of his scalp. Kevin doesn’t like it when they call him names, but he grins and bears it because there’s nothing else for him to do.

When the guy’s done, he kisses Kevin, licking his own come out of his mouth. Kevin thinks it’s strange that people do that but he doesn’t protest about it either; it’s not that weird, and he likes it when they kiss him. It doesn’t happen often.

The guy doesn’t thank him and for that Kevin is grateful, but he feels strangely hollow when he’s left alone, the cubicle door swinging open on its hinges. Kevin sinks back onto his heels, head bowed against his chest. He should move, he should close the door at least, but he can’t bring himself to, not quite yet. Instead he closes his eyes and tries to see something more than white behind his eyelids.

“Hey, are you okay?”

At the sound of the voice, curious and edged with concern, Kevin’s eyes fly open and he scrambles to his feet, lifting a surreptitious hand to wipe around his mouth. His gaze flicks up, down, quietly assessing the guy standing in front of him. He’s familiar, in that vague sort of way that means Kevin’s seen him around before but they’ve never actually spoken. He’s kind of hot, if you’re into the scruffy, unwashed look. Kevin isn’t, but he likes his eyes, grey like the speckles on the tiles beneath his knees.

He says, “How do you like it?” calm, perfunctory.

The guy frowns like he doesn’t understand, like he doesn’t realise where they are. “What do you mean, how do I like-” His eyes go wide. “No, shit, that’s not what I was-”

“You could pretend I’m a girl,” Kevin offers, not unkindly. He twists the ring on his finger and bites his lip. “If you want. People do. I don’t mind.” When the guy just stares at him, incredulity creased between his brows, Kevin continues, uncertain, “Or I could just use my hand, if that would-”

“No, _Jesus_.” The guy looks- angry isn’t the right word, but it’s the only one Kevin can think of right now. (He isn’t sure which word _is_ the right word to describe the way the guy’s face has gone almost completely white and his hands have clenched into tight fists at his sides and his mouth is working like he’s trying to say something but isn’t sure how.) “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Kevin shrugs, hoping it covers the way his entire body has tensed. He’s going to get beaten up. He kind of wants to smack himself; he hasn’t been stupid enough to offer himself to someone who didn’t want him in a long time. It’ll be okay (he learned how to take a beating very early on too but it doesn’t fill him with the same pride) as long as the guy doesn’t kick him when he’s down.

Kevin braces himself, eyes squeezing shut, but the blow he’s expecting never lands. When he flicks open an eye, cautious, the guy’s just staring at him again, but there’s something different mingled with the incredulity in his eyes, this time.

“Are you going to hit me?” Kevin asks, still cautious, still wary.

The guy chokes out a laugh. “No,” he says, shaking his head, “I am not going to hit you.”

“Oh.” Kevin frowns, confused, but he only shrugs, the line of his shoulders flattening out on the way down. At least he isn’t getting a beating.

The guy’s lips curve up over very white teeth and Kevin kind of likes his smile, too. “You’re a strange kid, Kevin,” he says, and Kevin wants to protest, to tell him he’s eighteen years old and he hasn’t been a kid in he doesn’t even know how long, but then he realises something kind of more important.

“How do you know my name?” Kevin asks, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“You’re in my music composition class, at college?” Kevin frowns, trying and failing to place the guy. His face sort of falls. “I’ve sat opposite you all year,” he says, like this should be obvious. “I’m Mike. Mike Carden?”

“ _Oh_ ,” Kevin says, realisation dawning. “Mike, of course. Sorry, I’m not really good with faces.”

“’s fine,” Mike says, shrugging.

“I really liked that song you wrote, though,” Kevin says, and he means it, he does, but Mike just shrugs again like he doesn’t really believe him. The silence stretches out between them until Kevin says, awkwardly, “I should probably go, I guess. See you in class?”

And before Mike can say anything at all Kevin’s gone, door swinging gently shut behind him.

  
**{ carden }**   


It’s very possible that Mike is completely and utterly screwed.

Before today, before the disastrous incident in a shitty cubicle of the shitty bathroom of a shitty bar, he’d never actually talked to Kevin before. He’d never so much as smiled or waved or even acknowledged his presence beyond staring at him occasionally because, seriously, the guy’s sort of ridiculously pretty and Mike gets bored in class, sometimes.

The thing is, _the thing is_ , before today, Kevin didn’t know Mike existed and he was perfectly happy keeping it that way. He was perfectly happy admiring Kevin’s voice and Kevin’s songs and Kevin’s face and Kevin’s smile from afar, a very far, but he can’t do that any more. He’s seen what Kevin looks like when he’s just given head and he’s been offered the chance to see what Kevin looks like _while_ he’s giving head, and Mike is completely and utterly _screwed_.

There was just something off, something wrong about the whole thing today. People don’t just offer to blow virtual strangers in public toilets outside of, like, porn, and Mike kind of thinks he’d notice if his life suddenly turned into a porno. At first he thought it was some kind of joke, because it was exactly the kind of shit his friends would find hilarious, but it was pretty obvious that that wasn’t the case either. Something’s just not right here and Mike has no clue what it could be.

He sighs, knocking his head back against the wall of his empty room. He almost wishes he _had_ taken Kevin up on his offer, even if he’s sure – well, pretty sure at least – he did the right thing. His dick doesn’t agree, but it doesn’t have as strong a moral compass as him. Which is why, incidentally, it’s currently sending his brain pictures of what Kevin would look like on his knees, unhelpfully labelled _jerk off to this, you know you want to_ because Mike’s dick has a will of its own and, also, no shame whatsoever. Mike hates his dick.

Mike hates his right hand, too, which is slipping under the waistband of his jeans, wrapping around the base of his dick. His body is conspiring to kill him, seriously. His fingers are in on it too because they’re moving now, little jerks and twists back and forth, and his brain has defected as well because it’s telling him that it’s Kevin’s mouth instead of his own hand and- _fuck_. Mike groans softly and he gives up entirely on pretending that this isn’t what he wants.

He pictures Kevin kneeling on the ground in front of him, his eyes dark with want as he leans forward and takes Mike’s dick into his mouth, his cheeks hollowing as he starts to suck. He’d probably go slow, tease it out of Mike while he begs him for more, or- or maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he’d be ruthless, maybe he’d suck hard and fast, his head bobbing as he moves up and down the length of Mike’s dick, and he’d moan, loudly, when Mike pulls on his ridiculous curls and jerks his head back to let himself slide even further into his hot, perfect mouth, and maybe, maybe he’d let Mike fuck his throat-

Mike comes, a fist to his mouth to stifle his groan as he spurts all over his hand, hot and wet and messy. After he’s finished jerking through the aftershocks, he grabs a towel and trudges out to the bathroom to clean up.

He can hear the sound of voices coming from his room when he comes back, his hair still damp and curling at the ends from his shower, so he pokes his head around the door, cautiously. However, his roommate is not, as far as Mike can see, anyway, doing anything with his boyfriend that would traumatise him for life if he walked in on it. Bill’s just curled up on his bed with Gabe, cuddling and sharing an earphone to what he thinks is Gabe’s iPod since it’s bright purple, so Mike goes to sit on his own bed without hesitation.

“Hey,” he says, casually, “do you know anything about that guy in my music class?”

“What, the one you have a gigantic crush on?” Bill replies, eyebrow arched.

Mike glares at him. “I am going to fucking _kill_ Brendon,” he mutters. “I specifically told him not to tell you about that.”

“Please,” Bill says, rolling his eyes, “this is _Brendon_ we’re talking about. The boy can’t keep a secret to save his life.”

“So do you know anything about Kevin or not?” Mike asks, blowing out an impatient breath.

Gabe looks up at the mention of Kevin’s name, his face lit up with something that looks suspiciously like glee.

“Oh hoh _hoh_ ,” he says, snickering, “the things I could tell you about him.”

Mike eyes him warily but only says, “Okay, what, go on, tell me.”

“Hey, how come you know him and I don’t?” Bill asks, forehead furrowed with confusion.

“Dude, you do,” Gabe says, shaking his head. “ _Kevin_. Kevin _Jonas_.” And then he waggles his eyebrows and Bill’s eyes go wide.

“Oh, _him_ ,” he says, and then he bursts out laughing.

“What?” Mike demands, narrowing his eyes. He’s kind of sick of everyone knowing what’s going on apart from him. “What’s so funny?”

Bill takes a few deep breaths to calm himself down. “Nothing, really, nothing, we shouldn’t laugh,” he says, biting down hard on his lower lip. “It’s actually kind of sad, really.”

Mike frowns. “What do you mean? How do you even know Kevin?”

“He transferred to our school when I was a junior and Gabe was a senior,” Bill explains, more soberly this time. “He had a breakdown or something, some kind of religious crisis, I’m not really sure about the details. He didn’t really talk to anyone, didn’t have any friends or anything, so I got someone to invite him to this party I was having.”

“Purely out of the kindness of your heart, of course,” Mike says, dryly, “and not at all because you wanted to find out what his deal was.”

“You know me so well, Michael,” Bill beams, and Mike rolls his eyes.

“So what _was_ his deal?” he asks, not entirely sure he wants to know any more.

“You know,” Gabe comments, seemingly randomly, “Kevin Jonas is a shockingly good kisser for someone who looks that innocent.” Mike’s eyes widen and Gabe snickers. “Though kissing is _far_ from the only thing he can do with his mouth.”

“Explain,” Mike orders.

“He sucked me off in a closet,” Gabe says. “It was awesome.”

“ _What_?”

“Well, he does this thing with his tongue where-”

“No, Gabe, Jesus,” Mike says fervently, clapping a hand over Gabe’s mouth. “That is not what I meant.”

Gabe licks his palm and Mike wrenches his hand away with a shudder. “Jealous?” Gabe teases.

Mike scowls at him. He’s not jealous, okay, it’s just that the image of Gabe getting a blowjob in a closet from _anyone_ is not one he ever wanted or needed to have. (It’s bad enough walking in on him and Bill; Mike’s had to practically scrub his brain with bleach to get rid of those memories.)

“Is that it?” he demands. “That’s what was so funny? Kevin sucked Gabe off, big deal, I’m pretty sure he wasn’t the last.”

“True,” Gabe says agreeably, “but I wasn’t _his_ last either.”

Bill bites his lip around a grin. “I think he gave pretty much every guy in our grade head, and more besides. It was pretty impressive.”

Mike’s eyes go wide. Wow. Bill’s right, that’s kind of... impressive. Wow.

“Well,” Bill continues, wrinkling his nose in distaste, “except the ones who beat him up for offering, poor kid.”

Mike flinches. He can’t help but remember what happened in the bathroom, the way Kevin braced himself like he was preparing for a beating when Mike asked him what the fuck was wrong with him. He can’t believe people would _do_ something like- okay, he really can, but it makes something hot and angry tighten around his chest. Kevin always looks so fragile, so innocent, like he might break if someone pushed him too hard.

“Hey,” Gabe says suddenly, grinning, “maybe he can suck you off in a closet at a party too.”

“Fuck you,” Mike says automatically, feeling his face go hot, but Bill sits up, looking thoughtful.

“Why not? You’re having that party this weekend to celebrate the start of spring break,” he says. “We could get Kevin to come along so Michael here can see what he’s missing.”

Mike feels his hands clench involuntarily into fists at his sides. Kevin isn’t just a piece of ass (or mouth, whatever) he’s a human being with feelings too, and that isn’t what they meant and he _knows_ that isn’t what they meant, but it’s still... it’s still kind of shitty, all things considered.

(He can’t help but wonder if Kevin actually likes sucking cock or if he’s just gotten used to people just expecting him to go to his knees for them. It’s just kind of... sad isn’t the right word, but it’s the only one Mike can think of. He isn’t sure which word _is_ the right word to describe the way his chest has tightened and he’s been suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to find Kevin and hug him really, really hard.

Mike resists the urge to groan. Kevin has turned him into a thirteen-year-old girl, _seriously_.)

  
**{ jonas }**   


The next time Kevin sees Mike, he’s at a party of a friend of a friend of a friend’s who he may or may not know, he isn’t actually sure. He found someone pretty soon after he arrived so he didn’t have to worry about making awkward small talk with the host, whoever they are.

When Kevin emerges from one of the bedrooms, flattening his mussed hair with one hand and wiping his mouth with the other, Mike’s just standing in the hallway, staring at him.

Kevin stops short. Too late to pretend he hasn’t seen him or doesn’t recognise him. “Hey, what are the odds?” he laughs, hands dropping back down to his sides. It sounds high-pitched and awkward even to his own ears. “Hi.”

“You have come on your face,” Mike blurts out, then bites the inside of his cheek like oh, hey, he hadn’t _actually_ been planning on saying that out loud. Kevin’s lips twitch. Mike’s cheeks are an endearing shade of red when he lifts a finger and points to a spot on his own face just below his lips. “Just there.”

“Thanks,” Kevin says. He doesn’t know what makes him do it, what makes him flick his tongue out and lick around his lips, but he does it and Mike doesn’t stop staring at him but something darkens in his eyes, just a little.

Moments later, Mike’s got Kevin backed up against the wall of the room he’s just vacated, hands firm where they rest on his hips, mouth hot and wet and insistent on his. Mike kicked the door shut on their way in and now the room’s half-dark again, shadows flickering on the walls from the light that peeks in through the slit in the curtain falling across the window.

“Been thinking about this,” Mike murmurs, his breath ghosting over Kevin’s neck. Kevin shivers. “You have no idea what you look like, do you?”

Kevin’s already dropping to the ground before Mike’s even finished the sentence, but a hand tightens on his shoulder and hauls him back up again before he gets all the way down. Mike’s eyes are frustrated when they meet Kevin’s own confused ones.

“Kevin,” Mike says. (Kevin likes the way Mike says his name; he holds it in his mouth for as long as he can like he thinks it deserves a place there.) “This isn’t- I don’t want- c’mere.”

Kevin flinches away when Mike reaches for him. “I’ll just go,” he says quietly, so quietly even he can’t hear the way his voice is shaking, “if you don’t want me. I’ll just go.”

“That isn’t what I- of course I fucking-” Mike blows out a breath and slits his eyes at Kevin. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

It stings more than the first time he said it and Kevin isn’t really sure why. Mike doesn’t sound angry this time, just sort of... sad.

“Nothing,” Kevin snaps back, pushing the hurt deep down beneath the sudden fury. Where does Mike get off on being an asshole one minute and then kissing him like- kissing him like it meant something? It didn’t, of course it didn’t, it never does, but that isn’t the point, Mike isn’t allowed to do this to him, no one’s allowed to-

“Kevin,” Mike says again, his voice more of a sigh than anything else, and then he drops to his knees in a move that is instantly familiar and not at the same time, because Kevin’s never seen it from this angle. He makes a choked noise in his throat that, yeah, he’s heard countless times before, but never from his own mouth.

“No one’s ever done this for you,” Mike says softly, hand resting on the waistband of Kevin’s jeans. (They’re his favourites, dark and skinny and clinging to his hips, and even if Nick hadn’t bought them for him out of the sales of his first album, Kevin would love them to pieces.)

He nods even though it wasn’t a question, throat too tight for him to speak. Mike mumbles something under his breath, maybe a curse, maybe something worse, and then he undoes Kevin’s belt and tugs down his jeans over his grazed knees to the ground. Mike’s fingers squeeze Kevin’s thighs on the way down, stroking gently at the bared skin at the back of his knees, and Kevin makes an undignified noise in the back of his throat that makes Mike smile.

Kevin swallows hard and his mouth moves without the rest of his body’s consent. “You don’t have to-”

“Kevin,” Mike cuts him off, “just so we’re clear here, any guy who doesn’t want to blow you the second he sees you is a fucking idiot.”

“Oh.” Kevin has no idea what to do with that. The anger’s been pushed down with the hurt and now all he can feel is confusion. It must show on his face because Mike laughs softly and leans forward to kiss the tip of his dick. Kevin’s hips jerk forward and he makes that noise again, but at this point he can’t bring himself to care. (He was already half-hard from the boy he sucked off and now... well, he’s a lot more than halfway there, put it that way.)

“You look gorgeous like this,” Mike murmurs, “fuck, you have no idea.”

Kevin’s head knocks back against the wall when Mike’s lips wrap around his dick. His hands grasp at the air, desperately seeking purchase, until Mike reaches up and puts them on his head. He smiles – around Kevin’s _dick_ , holyfuck holyfuck – when Kevin exhales sharply and tangles his fingers in Mike's hair.

He tries to focus on the things Mike does that he doesn’t, and vice versa, in order to distract himself so he doesn’t come (yet) and completely embarrass himself. Mike doesn’t use his hands; he palms Kevin’s ass instead, fingers teasing at his hole, which makes Kevin whine, low and desperate in the back of his throat. Technically speaking, Kevin thinks he’s better at it, probably just by virtue of experience, but he thinks there’s something to be said about Mike’s sloppy enthusiasm.

Kevin sort of wonders why on earth he’d never let anyone do this for him before, especially when Mike swipes his tongue over the head of Kevin’s dick and before he can even gasp out a warning, every nerve in his body whites out. Mike sucks him through it, licking around his dick until Kevin starts whimpering and pushing at his head.

Grinning, Mike pulls off with a wet, dirty plop and sits back on his heels.

“That,” Kevin says, a little breathless, as he slides down the wall to collapse in a boneless heap on the floor, “was _amazing_.”

“Yeah,” Mike drawls, his eyes gleaming with what looks like smug satisfaction, “I could tell.”

“Shut up,” Kevin mumbles, cheeks flushed. “I think I did well for my first time.”

“Oh, I wasn’t talking about your stamina, which, by the way, is kind of pathetic,” Mike snickers, “I meant your orgasm face.” His mouth lolls open and his eyes roll back in his head in what is obviously supposed to be an impression of Kevin. “It was a classic.”

“Oh my god, shut _up_ ,” Kevin repeats, mortified. He will never be able look Mike in the face again. “Hey, do you want me to-” He motions towards Mike’s crotch but he shakes his head, cheeks pink.

“I, um, I sort of-” He breaks off, scratching the back of his head, a slightly sheepish look on his face. “I sort of already... yeah.”

“Really?” Kevin asks, unable to help the grin spreading on his face.

Mike glances away, scowling. “Yes, really. It was- you were- shut up, okay?”

Kevin bites his lip to stop himself from giggling and nods, serious as he can manage. “Okay,” he says.

This is the part where they usually leave, but Mike’s still here and Kevin doesn’t have a clue what they’re supposed to do now. Mike seems to, however, because he’s digging in his pockets, searching for something. After a few moments, he pulls out a marker pen and takes Kevin by the wrist, tugging his sleeve up gently to scrawl something on his arm. The tip of the pen tickles Kevin’s skin and when it’s gone, there are ten scrawled digits in its place.

“Call me sometime, if you want,” Mike says, rolling the pen between his fingers, hesitant. “We could do this again or, you know, just talk, or get coffee or something, I don’t know-”

“I’d love to,” Kevin says quickly, heart pounding in his chest. “Yeah, no, that’d be excellent. Thank you.”

Mike smiles at him, that same smile from before that crinkles his eyes and makes Kevin’s chest clench with something like longing. “No problem.”

“So,” Kevin says, biting his lip, “think you could get hard again?”

Mike’s smile disappears instantly and his eyes turn serious. “I didn’t do it for that, Kevin. You get that, right? It wasn’t because I wanted- I just wanted you to see-” He cuts himself off with a sigh and scrubs a hand through his too-long hair.

“I know,” Kevin says, and he thinks he kind of does, but, “I still want to. If, you know, _you_ want me to.”

Mike rolls his eyes, but there’s a fond smile tugging at his lips. “I want you to. Believe me. I thought that part was kind of obvious. I just- you don’t have to.”

“I know,” Kevin repeats, smiling back at him.

He drops to the ground and this time, this time he feels the roughness of the carpet underneath his knees, revels in it, and when he’s done, when Mike’s shaking apart under his mouth and his hands, there’s something swelling in Kevin’s chest that pushes aside the hollowness and leaves space for nothing else.

  
**{ carden }**   


Mike was wrong. Kevin looks _so much better_ on his knees than he ever could’ve imagined. The way his mouth stretches around Mike’s dick is positively obscene, red and wet with spit and precome, in stark contrast to the delicate shadows cast on his cheeks by his eyelashes. His cheeks hollow when he sucks, humming a tune Mike can’t make out around him, and he swirls his tongue around the head on his way back down before swallowing Mike all the way down again.

He keeps going even when Mike tugs on his hair and gasps out something like a warning, letting Mike fuck his mouth as he comes, harder than he thinks he’s ever done in his entire life. He feels kind of like Kevin’s sucked his brains out through his dick when he sags back against the wall, utterly spent.

“Was that okay?” Kevin asks, his voice soft and gravelly.

Mike stares at him, incredulous, for a few moments, wondering how the fuck Kevin could be in any sort of doubt about that after Mike just came down his throat, but Kevin just stares back, waiting patiently for some kind of verbal response. He makes a startled, pleased little noise when Mike tugs him down and kisses the shit out of him instead, letting Mike fold him into his arms and pull him close.

They fall asleep like that, curled up into each other on the bed, their hearts beating just out of sync, and Mike has never been happier about being wrong in his entire life.

What Mike wasn’t wrong about, though, is what would happen after. When he wakes up the next morning, blinking hard against the light streaming in through the window, his arms are empty and his skin is goose-pimpling where Kevin was settled against him during the night. He was expecting it, but it still churns something unpleasant in his stomach when he realises that Kevin left without even saying goodbye. He’s suddenly very, very glad he gave Kevin his number, even if he sort of doubts Kevin will even call him now. He wishes he’d gotten Kevin’s too, just in case, and curses himself for not thinking of that before he let him just leave.

Mike sighs. He sighs and rubs at his eyes and pulls himself into a sitting position, and when he feels less like burying himself right back under the covers, he gets to his feet and wanders downstairs to the kitchen. Gabe isn’t there but Bill is, sipping a mug of something and reading a newspaper in just a pair of boxers.

He arches an eyebrow when Mike stumbles in, lifting his gaze from the paper. “’Morning,” he says, cheerfully. “Did you crash here last night?”

Mike sits down, making grabby hands at what he sincerely hopes is coffee in Bill’s hands. “Yeah,” he mumbles, when he’s drank enough of it that he thinks he can form coherent speech. “Ryland’s room.”

“Oh,” Bill says, and Mike scowls at the knowing tone of his voice. “You got lucky with Kevin, then?”

“I don’t think _lucky_ is the right word,” Mike says, and Bill furrows his brows in question. “He didn’t- he left before I woke up.”

“Aw, Mike!” Bill coos, his grin stupidly wide. “I didn’t realise you were such a closet romantic, that’s adorable.”

Mike’s mouth drops open in outrage. “Fuck you I am not. I just-” He glances down, scowling at the table. “It’s just kind of a shitty thing to do, that’s all.”

“You really like this guy,” Bill says, hiding his grin behind the cup he retrieved from Mike’s grasp, “don’t you?”

“No,” Mike mutters, glaring daggers at his supposed best friend.

“You do!” Bill looks positively delighted at this revelation. “Oh, Michael, I knew this day would come, but I didn’t realise it would be so-”

“Oh, fuck you,” Mike retorts, but he’s laughing despite himself.

“So,” Bill says, “are you going to see him again?”

Mike rolls his eyes. “He’s in my music composition class, Bill. I think it’d be hard not to.”

“You know what I mean, Mike.”

Mike shrugs. “I don’t know. I gave him my number, told him to call me. I think he will.”

“You want him to,” Bill says, matter-of-factly.

“Yes, William,” Mike says, shaking his head at him, “I want him to call me. Are you happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” Bill says, beaming at him, and Mike can’t help but smile back.

He’s still smiling when Gabe ambles in and ruffles his hair and calls him something in Spanish that sounds half-disparaging, half-congratulatory, grinning like a maniac all the while.

  
**{ jonas }**   


Kevin promised himself, years ago, that he’d never step foot in a church again. He has no idea how he found himself here, perched on one of the pews at the back with his head bowed.

It was just getting too much at his parents’ house and he needed a walk, and then it started raining, and then it started _pouring_ , and the church just looked so warm and inviting he couldn’t not walk in. (He doesn’t let himself think about the fact that he chose it over the coffee shop not a stone’s throw away that he often frequents because one of his best friends works there.)

He squeezes his eyes shut, hands coming up to clutch the side of his head like he thinks he can squeeze all the thoughts out of it that way. It’s been five days since the party and he hasn’t called Mike yet. He doesn’t know why. It’s not because of what happened, because of what they did, because of what Kevin let Mike do to him. His face burns with the memory of it, but it gives him a sick sense of pleasure to be thinking about it in a church. ( _Take that, God._ )

He isn’t ashamed, that isn’t it. Kevin got over that years ago. He’s just- he’s just a little bit scared, that’s all. Sometimes he gets as far as dialling the number he’s memorised by heart before the fear overtakes him and he slides his phone shut again. Mike probably just gave him his number out of pity, after all, he probably doesn’t want anything more to do with Kevin. They never do. What if Kevin calls him and Mike can’t even remember who he is? Or worse, what if Mike _does_ remember and he just laughs at him?  Kevin doesn’t know if he could handle that.

He sighs, scrubs a hand through his hair. He thinks about praying, about asking God what he should do, but just the mere thought of it makes him want to laugh. He knows what God would want him to do, that’s the problem.

“Excuse me?” Kevin glances up into the familiar face of the pastor. He thinks his name is Luke, or maybe David. Something Biblical, anyway. He tries to smile, tries to look as non-threatening as he can. “Can I help you? You look troubled.”

“I’m fine,” Kevin says hastily. “I’m just... praying.” The lie tastes sour in his mouth but he doesn’t know what else to say, how else to get rid of the man.

The pastor gives him an approving smile and says, “Of course. He will always guide you, if you’re willing to let Him show you the way.”

Kevin nods, an awkward jerk of his head. “Thank you, Father.”

“Sometimes it does help to talk to someone who’ll give you a verbal response, though,” the pastor continues, with a sidelong glance in Kevin’s direction. “I’m always willing to listen if people need to talk.”

“Thank you,” Kevin repeats, a strained smile on his lips. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The pastor smiles back, something pitying in his gaze, before he finally leaves Kevin alone. He tries not to sigh too loudly in relief.

“Go on,” Kevin murmurs, glancing up. There’s a figure of Jesus stretched out on the cross mounted on the wall in front of him, watching him with vague disinterest. “Show me the way.”

He drops his head back to his chest with a bitter smile when the only response is silence.

  
**{ jonas }**   


It’s stopped raining by the time Kevin leaves the church, the sky mostly clear by now of dark grey storm clouds. He walks off some distance before taking out his phone, shuffling his feet as he listens to it ring.

“Hey, Mike? It’s Kevin,” he says. His grip on the phone tightens. “Kevin Jonas?”

“Oh, Kevin, hey!” Kevin hopes, very hard, that he isn’t imagining that Mike sounds pleased. “I didn’t think you’d call.”

“Yeah, sorry, I, um, I sort of...” Kevin trails off when he realises how stupid his excuses would sound outside of his own head. “I was just wondering if you still wanted to get that coffee?” he tries instead. “There’s this place in town called the Umbrella Academy and it does really good coffee. Like, really really good. Like, blow your mind good. Like, you will never be able to drink any other kind of coffee because it will pale in comparison good.”

“Sure, that sounds great,” Mike says, before Kevin can properly start rambling. “When do you want to meet up?”

“Um.” Kevin bites his lip. “How about right now?”

“Right now?” Mike repeats, dubiously.

Kevin’s heart promptly launches itself into his throat. God, he’s screwed this up, he’s screwed this up, he’s such an _idiot_.

“Yeah, um, I mean, it’s okay if you don’t want to, I totally understand, I just-”

“Kevin,” Mike says, his voice soft, and Kevin cuts himself off abruptly, “no, that’d be awesome. Just give me half an hour to get there, okay?”

Kevin head bobs up and down, hard. “Yeah, th- okay.”

“Bye Kevin.”

“Goodbye,” Kevin says, before he hangs up and exhales, sharply.

That... could’ve gone a lot worse. Kevin winces. Admittedly, yeah, it could’ve gone a lot better, but at least Mike remembered him, and does seem to still actually want to see him. He hasn’t got a clue why but a lot of things don’t make sense about Mike. Kevin puts his phone in his pocket with a sigh and starts down the road for the Umbrella Academy.

  
**{ carden }**   


Kevin’s already sitting in a booth near the back of the coffee shop when Mike gets there, texting or something on his phone. He looks up when Mike approaches, pushing a damp clump of hair away from his face as he slides his phone shut.

“Hi,” he says, smiling up at Mike from underneath his lashes.

“Hey,” Mike says as he slides into the seat opposite him. “Have you been waiting here long?”

Kevin shakes his head. “I was in the area anyway, it’s fine.”

Mike nods, awkwardly. “You look great,” he says, eyeing Kevin up and down.

“You too. You know, uh, they have a bathroom,” Kevin says, smiling hesitantly. “I mean. If you want to... you know.”

Mike frowns, confused, but then his eyes widen with realisation and he gulps. “Could we, um, just have coffee?” he says quickly. “I could really go for a latte or something right now.”

“Okay, if that’s what you want,” Kevin says, sounding sort of puzzled. “I mean, yeah, sure. The coffee here is excellent.”

“Great!” Mike says, too loudly and far too brightly. Kevin gives him a strange look, and Mike tries not to smile like someone who’s gone insane. “Let’s get some coffee.”

“Hey, Kevin,” the barista says, grinning at Kevin when they approach the counter. “Your usual, right?” Kevin nods, smiling warmly back at the guy, _Jon_ , according to his name tag. Absently, Mike wonders if Kevin’s ever sucked Jon off in a bathroom, and he winces at the thought. “What’s your friend having?”

Kevin turns to him, eyebrows raised in question. Mike squints at the vast array of coffees on display, a few with names he recognises, some with names so weird and ridiculous he doesn’t even want to think about saying them out loud.

“Same as Kevin, I guess,” he says finally.

“Hey Nic!” Jon calls, when he’s rung up the order on the till. “Two Our Lady of Sorrows mochas, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Sure,” says the girl hovering by the coffee machine, Nic. She beams at Kevin. “Hi Kevin, hi Kevin’s friend!” She turns her smile on Mike and Mike finds himself blinking, hard, from the intensity of it. “I’m Nicole, but feel free to call me Nic, please. Everyone else does.”

“I’m Mike,” he says, waving awkwardly.

He glances around while Nic makes up their coffees – seriously, what even is an Our Lady of Sorrows mocha? Mike has no idea what he’s let himself in for – and Kevin talks to Jon. It seems like a pretty cool place, if he’s honest; the walls are covered in drawings and paintings and the odd Polaroid picture here and there, and the speakers in the corner are playing what Mike thinks is The Misfits. It does seem kind of weird, and not at all like the kind of place Mike would have thought Kevin would like, but Mike’s starting to realise there’s a lot he doesn’t know about him.

“Here you go,” Jon says suddenly, jerking Mike out of his thoughts as he hands over the coffee. “That’ll be five bucks.”

Kevin and Mike pull out their wallets at the exact same time to give Jon the money.

“Split it?” Mike offers, smiling, but Kevin shakes his head.

“I invited you out, I should pay,” he reasons. “It’s only fair.”

Mike opens his mouth to argue but Kevin’s already handing Jon the money. Jon catches Mike’s eye and smiles at him, a sort of what-can-you-do smile that Mike can’t help but return.

“Kevin is a proper gentleman,” Jon informs him. “He _really_ knows how to treat a boy,” he adds, dropping a wink at Kevin which makes his face turn a shade of red that Mike is willing to admit is sort of ridiculously adorable.

“You really do, Kevin,” Nic puts in, grinning. “I would totally date you if you were into girls.”

Jon’s mouth drops open, his eyes wide with mock-hurt. “You would leave me so easily, Nicole? I am shocked. Shocked and horrified. Do I mean so little to you?”

“You know I only keep you around because you’re good in bed,” Nic says, her grin turning sly.

“Well,” Jon starts, grinning back as he pulls her into his arms with a move that looks lazy and practised.

“I think that’s our cue to leave,” Kevin says loudly with a good-natured eye-roll at the two of them, before he takes Mike by the arm with his free hand and steers him back to their booth. “Sorry about them. They’re kind of...” He makes a vague, unidentifiable gesture that Mike assumes is supposed to sum up Nic and Jon’s... Nic-and-Jonness, and grimaces. “Yeah.”

Mike shakes his head. “They’re awesome,” he says, and he means it. He waggles his eyebrows at Kevin and adds, teasingly, “Seems like I have competition, though.”

Kevin’s cheeks flush again and he mumbles something incomprehensible into his cup of coffee that makes Mike smile.

“So,” he starts, stirring his coffee absently, “tell me about yourself. I mean, all I know about you is that you’re majoring in music, you’re a proper gentleman and you give really, really good head.”

Kevin laughs, softly. “What else do you need to know?” he asks, a self-deprecating smile on his lips.

Mike laughs too, until he realises that Kevin isn’t joking. “Oh. Right. Um. Well,” he says, very intelligently, “you like music, right?”

Mike swallows a groan, resisting the urge to bury his head in his cup of coffee. Small talk is not his strong point, at all, but that’s a new low even for him.

“Just a little, yeah,” Kevin says, grinning. “I had a band, before, with my brothers, but it didn’t work out.”

“Oh, cool,” Mike says, gratefully latching onto that piece of information. “How many brothers do you have?”

“Three,” Kevin says, “but Frankie’s only five so the band was just me, Joe and Nick. Nick’s the musical genius of the family, though,” he adds, and there’s no envy in his voice, just pure, honest pride. “He got a record deal a little while ago and he just released his first album.”

“What’s it called?” Mike asks, honestly curious. “Might check it out.”

“Somehow I really don’t think it’s your type of music,” Kevin says, eyes dancing over the rim of his coffee cup.

Mike arches an eyebrow. “What makes you say that? I could totally be into...”

“Christian pop,” Kevin dutifully fills in, biting back a smile.

“...Christian pop,” Mike repeats, dubiously, and Kevin giggles. “Okay, yeah, it’s really not my thing. But still,” he says, narrowing his eyes, “that was really judgemental of you. I could be into that for all you know.”

“I kind of doubt it,” Kevin says, still sort of giggling at him.

“There you go again, being judgemental,” Mike says, shaking his head. “How do you know I’m not a closet Christian?”

“Well,” Kevin says with a shrug, “you’re gay, right?”

“Bi,” Mike corrects, “actually.”

Kevin’s cheeks flush with embarrassment. “Oh, right, sorry,” he says quickly. Mike just shrugs; he’s not offended or anything, it just honestly doesn’t matter to him. “Still, you know, Christianity isn’t very accepting of... that sort of thing.”

Mike frowns. “So, what? You can’t be gay and a Christian? Is that what you’re saying?” Kevin just shrugs. “But aren’t you-”

“Not any more,” Kevin says, his voice suddenly as flat and empty as his eyes. His shoulders have hunched up somewhere by his ears and he’s staring kind of intensely into his cup of coffee, knuckles white where they’re gripping the edges. _Some kind of religious crisis_ , Bill said. Shit.

Mike reaches over, knocks Kevin’s knuckle with his own. Kevin doesn’t look up.

“I’m not,” Mike says, “if it matters.”

“It doesn’t,” Kevin says, so quietly Mike has to strain his ears to hear him. “It’s fine, Mike, I didn’t mean to- I’m sorry. I should just... I should just go.”

“Kevin,” Mike says, sort of helplessly. Kevin freezes, half out of his seat, head still bowed towards the table. “Don’t. Stay, please?”

Kevin exhales, slowly, the tense line of his shoulders flattening out. He slides back down in his seat, but he’s still looking anywhere but at Mike’s face.

“I had a band too, back in high school,” Mike says, after a few minutes of excruciatingly awkward silence, “but it didn’t work out either. Maybe we could play together sometime?”

Kevin looks up, then, and there’s something in his eyes Mike can’t understand. “Yeah,” he says, biting his lip. “That’d be great, yeah. Thank you.”

Mike smiles, lifting his cup to take a sip. “This is really fucking good,” he says, trying to hide his surprise at the fact that something called Our Lady of Sorrows could taste even halfway decent. He obviously doesn’t do a very good job because Kevin bursts out laughing at him. (Mike doesn’t mind, though; Kevin laughing is a million times better than Kevin bracing himself like he’s expecting a blow, even if he’s laughing at Mike. Kind of especially if he’s laughing at Mike.)

“I know, right? Nic and Jon are coffee-making _geniuses_ ,” he declares, loud enough for the two of them two hear. Nic just laughs, shaking her head, but Jon turns around and gives Kevin a mock salute and a satisfied smirk.

“Yeah,” Mike agrees, nodding, “they kind of are. Do they own this place?”

Kevin shakes his head. “No, this guy Gerard does. Nic and Jon are still in college like us. Jon’s a photography major. The photos are his,” Kevin says, nodding towards the polaroids nestled amongst the art on the walls.

“Are the drawings Nicole’s, then?” Mike asks curiously.

Kevin bursts out laughing. “Nic doesn’t have an artistic bone in her body,” he explains, still chuckling to himself. “The drawings are Gerard’s.”

Mike eyes the nearest picture; it’s a painting of a unicorn being mauled by a horde of zombies. “He seems like a lovely guy,” he comments.

“He really really is,” Kevin says, earnestly, and Mike can’t help but smile at him, wide and kind of stupid.

  
**{ jonas }**   


When they’ve finished their coffees, they wave goodbye to Nic and Jon before leaving the Umbrella Academy. Jon grins at Kevin and Nic gives him an enthusiastic thumbs up when Mike’s turned around, and Kevin’s smiling back even as he rolls his eyes at them and shakes his head.

“I, uh, had a great time today,” he says when they reach Mike’s car, parked some way away from the coffee shop.

“Me too. I’m glad you called,” Mike says, softly.

Kevin glances up and smiles at him, and something softens in Mike’s face. Mike’s leaning towards him, leaning down, and before Kevin knows what he’s doing he’s turning his head away sharply before Mike can kiss him. He can feel his face burning when Mike pulls away, confusion etched in the line between his brows.

“I should go,” Kevin blurts out, already stumbling backwards. “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, I just- I should go.”

He turns and flees before Mike can say anything, cursing himself every step of the way. It was going so well, better than Kevin expected, better than Kevin _deserved_ , and he just had to go and screw it up. It’s typical. This is why he can’t have nice things, because he’s Kevin freaking Jonas and he just screws them all up.

His fingers are shaking when he pulls out his phone to call Joe to pick him up, but he refuses to let it show in his voice, forces himself to keep it steady so his brother doesn't notice anything wrong. (His family thinks he’s doing better now and he can’t disappoint them too, not on top of everything else he’s completely failing at.)

By the time Joe’s pulling up in the car their parents got him for his sweet sixteenth, Kevin’s almost smiling, enough that Joe shouldn’t be able to notice that anything's wrong at all.

“You okay?” he asks when Kevin gets in, belting himself into the passenger seat. “You’ve been a while. Mom and Dad were starting to worry. And Nick, but you know him, he always worries.”

Kevin actually does smile, then. “I’m fine,” he assures his younger brother, “just needed a walk.”

Joe smiles back at him as he puts the car into reverse and backs out into the road. “Did it help?”

“Huh?”

“The walk. Did it make you feel better?” Joe clarifies, and Kevin glances away, out of the window. “I know Mom and Dad can be a bit much, sometimes, and-”

“I’m fine,” Kevin repeats. “Seriously. It’s just weird, being back at home. Sometimes I just need some time to myself.”

Joe doesn’t remind him he’s been home for nearly a week now, and Kevin is grateful. He just smiles, a sad little smile that tugs at his lips but doesn’t quite pull them properly up.

“Was he nice?” is all he says, his voice soft, and Kevin swallows hard past the lump that rises in his throat.

“Yes,” he says, “he was lovely.”

Joe nods, something like relief in his eyes, before he turns his attention back to the road. They don’t talk at all for the remainder of the journey home.

  
**{ carden }**   


Mike is still turning over the events of the evening when he pulls up outside Gabe’s house. He can’t for the life of him figure out what went wrong, he just knows that something did and he knows that whatever it was, it was his fault.

“Is my baby safe?” Gabe demands, jumping to his feet the instant Mike gets inside. “Did you hurt her?”

“Your car is fine, Gabe,” Mike assures him, rolling his eyes. “Thanks for letting me borrow it.”

“The Cobra does not appreciate you objectifying her,” Gabe says, haughtily. “But she’ll be glad to know that she assisted you in your quest to win your fair maiden.” When Mike just stares at him, Gabe holds up his hand and says, “Her words, dude, not mine.”

“Sure,” Mike says, shaking his head. “Hey, is Bill around?”

“Last I saw him, he was in the living room with Sisky,” Gabe informs him, and Mike nods his thanks. He’s not going anywhere near the living room, then; Bill’ll want to know how his date with Kevin went in intimate detail and Mike isn’t ready for that, not quite yet.

He heads for the bathroom instead and locks himself inside, pulling out his phone as he goes to sit on the toilet seat. He goes through his received calls to find the most recent number before hitting the call button.

“Hey,” he says, when Kevin answers the phone. “It’s Mike. I just wanted to check you got home okay. You left kind of quickly.”

There’s a dry click, like the sound of someone swallowing, then Kevin’s saying, “I’m fine. I’m sorry I made you worry about me. You shouldn’t have.”

“No, Kevin, shit, _I’m_ sorry,” Mike says, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m sorry for whatever it was I did to make you run off like that. I didn’t mean to, to make you uncomfortable, or whatever. I’m sorry.”

“I wasn’t,” Kevin says, awkwardly. “Uncomfortable, I mean. I just- I don’t know. I just panicked.”

“I kissed you before,” Mike points out, as gently as he can manage.

“That was... different.” Mike hears Kevin swallow again. “I’ve never- I’ve never done something like this before. With anyone. It’s- it’s hard.” There’s a pause, then Kevin says, quietly, “I understand if you don’t want to see me again, I just-”

“Kevin,” Mike interrupts, frowning, “what the fuck? Of course I want to see you again.”

“Good,” Kevin says, sounding relieved. “Great, yeah, that’s great. You said, before, that you’d like it if we could play music together or something. Do you, uh, do you still want to?”

Mike just about stops himself from saying _duh_ ; somehow he doesn’t think it’s as obvious to Kevin how much Mike likes him as it seems. “Yeah,” he says instead. “I’m staying with Gabe at the moment so just come over whenever. He won’t mind.”

“Oh, okay. What’s the address?”

“Gabe’s place,” Mike repeats. “You came here for the party last week?”

“ _Oh_ ,” Kevin says. “Right, sorry, should’ve realised. I guess I could come over tomorrow, if you want? If that isn’t too soon. Is that too soon?”

“That’d be great,” Mike says quickly, before Kevin can freak himself out again. “Just come over whenever, seriously. There’s always loads of people here anyway, Gabe won’t even notice one more. Text me or something before you come over, though, just to make sure I’m actually awake.”

“Okay, yeah, I’ll do that. Oh, hey,” Kevin says suddenly, “I have to go, my mom’s calling me. Goodbye, Mike.”

“Bye Kevin,” Mike says, but he’s talking to nothing but a dial tone.

  
**{ jonas }**   


“Come in!” Kevin calls, tucking his phone back in his pocket after he’s hung up on Mike.

His mom pokes her head around the door, smiling. “Mind if I join you?” she asks, coming all the way inside when Kevin nods and squeezes over on his bed.

“David said he saw you at church today,” she says, breaking the easy silence between them. She doesn’t look at him. “Not for a service or anything, just... praying.”

Kevin shrugs. “It started raining when I was walking. I went in to shelter until it stopped.”

“He said you looked troubled,” his mom says, carefully, after a moment’s pause.

“I’m fine, Mom,” Kevin assures her with a weary smile. “I just-” He searches for something that’ll appease her, that’ll smooth the worried crease between her brows. “It just felt right, being there. Like something... something was guiding me.”

His mom nods to herself like this is confirmation of something. “You know we, that is, me and your father, we pray for you all the time,” she says, and Kevin can’t help but smile again. “But only that you’ll find your way, however far away from the church that may be.”

“I know, Mom,” Kevin says softly. “Thank you.”

“I know it’s hard for you, being who you are,” she continues, “and I know that you think that you’ve somehow angered God by being born the way you have been, but you have to know that we will _always_ love you, no matter what people think or say. You do know that, right?”

Kevin swallows, hard, but the lump in his throat refuses to budge. “Yeah,” he manages, letting his head fall to his mom’s shoulder, “I know.”

She wraps her arms around him tight and doesn’t let go for a very, very long time. When she does, she smiles at him and ruffles his hair and leaves, shutting the door quietly behind her.

Kevin exhales, slowly. His gaze flickers to his bedside table, to the silver ring resting beside his watch. He leans over, hesitates, then picks up the watch.


	2. i'll be the one to make you smile again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _hold out your hands and lean upon me  
>  i’ll be the one to make you smile  
> hold out your hands and lean upon me  
> i’ll be the one to make you smile again _  
>  **heartburn; architects**__

  
**{ jonas }**   


Kevin’s been lying in bed for hours when he finally hauls himself out of bed and into the shower. It’s still ridiculously early by most people’s standards so he stays under the spray for a full ten minutes longer than he normally would before he trudges back to his room to get dressed.

Everyone else is still asleep when Kevin wanders downstairs, which isn’t very surprising considering it’s – Kevin flicks his gaze to the clock hanging on the wall – barely nine thirty am. He scribbles a note to his parents to let them know he’s going over to a friend’s house, which he props up against the kettle after it’s finished boiling. When he’s finishes his coffee and eaten something substantial (his mom would kill him if he didn’t have a proper breakfast) he shuts the front door quietly behind him and heads for the bus stop down the road from his parents’ house, his guitar knocking gently against the backs of his knees.

It doesn’t take him long to get to Gabe’s; it seems like no time at all before he’s walking up the path to the very vaguely familiar house. He remembers then, suddenly, when he’s lifted a finger to press the doorbell, what Mike had said about texting him before he came.

 _Outside Gabe’s right now_ , he types out, _please open the door_. He gets a response much quicker than he expected, barely half a minute after he sends the text, and settles on the stoop to wait.

“’Morning,” he says, rising to his feet to give Mike a sheepish smile when he opens the door. “I woke you up, didn’t I? I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Mike says, with a bleary-eyed smile of his own. He’s pulled on a t-shirt and sweatpants over the boxers Kevin knows he sleeps in and his hair is mussed like he literally just rolled out of bed. Kevin has to clench his hands tight to stop himself from leaning over and smoothing it down. “Everyone else is still asleep, though, so we have to be quiet.”

Kevin nods and follows Mike inside, careful to shut the door quietly behind him. Mike leads him past several doors on the ground floor before stopping outside one and turning the key in the lock. He leans in to flip on a switch when the door opens, illuminating a set of steps leading down to what Kevin assumes is the basement.

“Nate lives down here, sometimes,” Mike explains, tugging him down the steps, “but he’s gone home for the holidays so we’ll have the place to ourselves.”

Kevin nods and lets himself be led. He’s half-expecting the basement to be dark and dank and smell faintly musty, so he’s kind of surprised when it turns out to look, well, like any other room, with a slightly lower ceiling and a boiler in the corner, but still. There’s a bed pushed up against one wall, probably Nate’s, and several sofas scattered around a TV set up in the middle of the room.

“You brought your own guitar?” Mike asks, and Kevin stops surveying the room long enough to turn to him and smile.

“Yeah,” he says, shrugging the case down off his shoulder. “Where do you want to do this?”

Mike sits back on one of the sofas with his own guitar and motions for Kevin to sit on the other. He strums a few chords and Kevin does the same, trying to copy the notes Mike is playing. After a few bars, Mike segues into a song and Kevin gives up trying to match him, just watches his expert fingers moving on the strings.

“Sorry,” Mike says, suddenly stilling his hands. He’s been playing for kind of a while, Kevin doing nothing but watch him.

“No, it’s fine,” Kevin assures him, smiling so Mike will believe him. “I like watching you play. You have interesting fingers.”

“Interesting? How do you mean?” Mike asks, waggling his eyebrows. He cracks up when Kevin blushes.

“I just like watching you play,” he mumbles, his cheeks still red hot.

Mike grins. “Me too. Could you play me something? A real song, not just chords.”

“Sure,” Kevin says, smiling back. “Any preferences?”

Mike picks absently at a few strings, muting the vibrations with his right hand. “Something you wrote? You don’t have to,” he says hastily, at the look on Kevin’s face, “I just- I really like your compositions, the stuff you do in class. You’re really good.”

“Thanks,” Kevin says, biting his lip. “I, um, okay, this is something- I wrote it ages ago, it’s kind of stupid, I just-”

“I’m sure it’s great,” Mike says, and Kevin knows that he means it, can hear it in his voice and see it in his eyes. He relaxes.

“Okay,” he says, nodding to himself, “okay.”

Kevin’s fingers find the familiar frets and he starts playing, cursing under his breath when he messes up. He takes a few deep breaths, his mouth like sandpaper, and tries again, slower and more deliberate this time. Ducking his head, Kevin forces himself to stare at the floor so he doesn’t look at Mike, doesn’t let himself see his face. He hums along with the melody, needing something to quiet the white noise buzzing in his ears.

(He never wrote lyrics for the song, couldn’t find the right words to describe what he wanted to say and didn’t see the point of trying when the music seemed to speak for itself. Now, though, now he wishes there was something he could sing to take his mind off what a stupid idea it was to play this, to Mike of all people.)

There is nothing but silence when Kevin stops playing, the last notes fading into the shadows. He doesn’t look up at Mike, can’t bring himself to see the look on his face. He feels like he’s stretched himself wide open and everything inside of him has been laid out for everyone to see, for _Mike_ to see, to stare at and poke at and tear into pieces, if he wanted.

(Kevin doesn’t know what Mike wants. He hopes it isn’t that.)

“Wow,” Mike says, when the silence has stretched out to something uncomfortable. “That was really...” He trails off, and Kevin understands. It’s hard for him to describe too. “Sad.”

Kevin nods, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. “I wrote it when I was fifteen,” he says quietly, so quietly even he can’t hear the way his voice is shaking. “It wasn’t a good time in my life.”

He glances up and Mike is staring at him, something intense in his eyes that makes Kevin shift on the sofa.

“What?”

“You have interesting fingers too,” Mike says, but he doesn’t say it the way Kevin did and Kevin finds himself blushing again.

Mike shuffles closer, still watching Kevin intently. Kevin watches Mike back, his heart pounding in his chest so loud he’s worried it’ll wake Mike’s friends.

“If I try to kiss you,” Mike says, his voice very, very soft, “will you run away again?”

Kevin swallows, hard. He doesn’t trust himself to speak, doesn’t trust himself not to say something completely ridiculous, so he just shakes his head once, quickly. Something crosses Mike’s face, something that looks a lot like relief. Kevin doesn’t know what to make of that.

“Good,” Mike whispers, and then he’s closing the distance between them and Kevin can feel the panic rising in his chest, closing around his windpipe and forcing the air from his lungs. He tries to make himself relax but he’s still stiff when Mike finally kisses him, and it doesn’t help that he’s still clutching his guitar with both hands.

Mike pulls away after a few moments, laughing. “How about we try that again?” he suggests, the self-deprecating on his lips enough to let Kevin know it isn’t him Mike’s laughing at.

Kevin nods, licking his lips, and the amused look on Mike’s face vanishes. He takes Kevin’s guitar and props it up next to Mike’s against the side of the sofa, before turning back to him. Then he takes Kevin by the wrists with the same ease as he handled the guitars and pulls him over into his lap.

“Is this okay?” Mike asks, his voice gentle as the hands still circling Kevin’s wrists.

Kevin can’t do anything but jerk his head in a nod, his mouth suddenly dry. Mike lets go of Kevin’s wrists and brings his hands up to cup Kevin’s face, his fingers rubbing across Kevin’s cheeks and wandering through Kevin’s hair. He pulls on a loose curl, chuckling when he lets go and it springs back into place. Kevin feels a rush of something that feels a lot like courage and he surges forward and kisses Mike before he can give Mike the chance.

Kevin’s kissed people before, not often, but he has, and Mike is one of those people.

This isn’t anything like any of those times.

It’s easy in a way it usually isn’t, pre- or post-blowjob, Mike’s mouth soft and warm and gentle against Kevin’s. Kevin kind of thinks he could keep kissing Mike forever, if he would let him. Kevin knows Mike would get sick of him soon enough, though. (To be honest, Kevin’s kind of surprised Mike’s stuck around as long as he has. People don’t, usually, but Mike is not people. Mike is Mike, and Kevin still hasn’t figured out what that is, yet. All he knows is that he really, really likes it.) For now, he’s content with what he has, but he’ll be damned if he won’t try to make it as good as possible for as long as possible.

Mike lets out a soft moan when Kevin bites his lip and licks inside, wrapping one hand around the nape of Kevin’s neck and pushing him closer. Kevin’s own hands feel uncomfortably empty so he trails them down Mike’s side, over the soft curve of his stomach, down to the hardness between Mike’s legs.

Mike moans again, long and low into Kevin’s mouth, and it gives Kevin enough courage to slip a hand under the waistband of Mike’s boxers and pull out his dick. He doesn’t break the kiss as he starts to stroke down the length of it, slowly at first, but he can feel Mike’s hips jerking like they can’t help themselves and he soon quickens his pace.

He swallows the sounds Mike makes, conscious of Mike’s sleeping friends, but Kevin doesn’t need to hear him to see the effect he’s having on him. Mike is panting into Kevin’s mouth and jerking his hips up into Kevin’s hand and when Kevin pulls back a little to get a look at his face, it’s flushed and sweaty and desperate. The feeling that sizzles through Kevin at the sight is as heady and powerful as it always is but it’s just _more_ , somehow, and Kevin isn’t entirely sure why but he thinks it’s because it’s Mike he’s taking to pieces.

After Mike’s tucked himself back in his pants with a grimace, Kevin pulls his hand away and licks his fingers clean. Come tastes better when it hasn’t had a chance to start drying on your skin, but he kind of likes it anyway. When he looks back at Mike, Mike’s eyes are dark as they stare back.

“What?”

Mike just laughs softly and shakes his head and pulls Kevin back down to kiss him. “You,” he murmurs against Kevin’s lips, and it doesn’t sound like the end of the sentence but Mike doesn’t say anything else.

The door creaks open suddenly and then someone is saying, “Oh. Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

The someone sounds smug and very familiar and Mike pulls back to break the kiss, scowling at the source of it. Kevin muffles his whimper against Mike’s neck.

“You have fucking awful timing, Gabe,” Mike informs him, shaking his head.

“That is not what he said,” Gabe replies, the laughter obvious in his voice. “Why, were you getting laid?”

Mike huffs out an impatient breath. “What do you want, Gabe?”

“Can’t I wander freely in my own home?” Gabe says innocently, but Mike just keeps scowling at him. “Okay, fine. Bill’s making lunch and he sent me down to see if you want some.” He doesn’t give Mike time to reply, just says, “Hey Kevin! Didn’t think I’d see you again so soon.”

Kevin looks up at him to return the greeting but the words die on his lips. The man standing in front of him is wearing a purple hoodie and a baseball cap and the most ridiculous grin in the world and it’s _Gabe_ , the first boy Kevin ever went to his knees for. Mike’s Gabe is Gabe _Saporta_. Kevin swallows, hard, shifting out of Mike’s lap as surreptitiously as he can.

“Hi,” he manages. “How’ve you been, Gabe?”

“Pretty great, yeah, how about you?” Kevin just nods in response. Gabe’s eyes rake over him once and he adds, “You look fucking fantastic, by the way. The puberty fairy was _very_ kind to you.”

“Thanks,” Kevin mumbles, his face flushed from the compliment. Gabe is just as hot as he was two years ago, pressed up against Kevin in a tiny closet, and Kevin can’t help but remember what he felt like, what he tasted like. He tries, vainly, to push the memories away; it feels wrong to be thinking about Gabe with the taste of Mike still fresh on his lips.

“Stop undressing him with your eyes, Gabe, Jesus,” Mike mutters, and Gabe rolls his eyes.

“No need to be jealous, I’m just looking,” he says, shaking his head. “The food’s upstairs, okay, come get it if you want it. Me and Bill probably won’t be around, but Brendon should be up there.”

He disappears back up the stairs with one last wink in Kevin’s direction. Kevin bites his lip, shifting awkwardly in place. Mike looks... pained, and Kevin has no idea why.

“Me and Gabe went to high school together,” he says eventually, neglecting to mention the other pretty important thing they did together. (Mike does not need to know about that, and hopefully he never ever will.)

“I know,” Mike says, glancing down at his hands, folded tightly in his lap.

Kevin frowns. “How-”

“Bill’s my roommate,” Mike explains, still not looking at Kevin. “William Beckett?”

“Oh, right.” Kevin laughs, nervously. “Small world, eh?”

“Yeah,” Mike says quietly.

Kevin shuffles closer to Mike, touches his knee until he looks up. “Are you pissed at me?” he asks, softly.

The pained look melts off Mike’s face, replaced with something like a smile. “Nah,” he says, and it doesn’t sound like he’s lying. “Just thinking. You want some food? I’m really fucking hungry, I’ve only had coffee.”

“Coffee does not count as food, Mike,” Kevin says, shaking his head mock-disapprovingly. “We’re going upstairs.”

Mike laughs and gets up, pulling Kevin to his feet along with him. He slips his hand into Kevin’s on the way up, probably to keep him steady on the rickety stairs, but he doesn’t take it out when they emerge and Kevin doesn’t let go either. (He can’t help the grin that spreads on his face at that; he doesn’t think anyone’s ever held his hand before and, honestly, it’s kind of really, really nice to lace his fingers with Mike’s and face the world at his side.)

The kitchen is empty when they get there apart from a dark-haired boy Kevin recognises from his and Mike’s composition class who’s sitting in front of several heaped plates of food. Mike heads straight for them, practically drooling. Kevin trails after him, hoping he doesn’t look as lost as he feels.

“This is Brendon,” Mike says, gesturing to him with the hand that isn’t grabbing a sandwich. “Brendon, this is Kevin.”

Brendon waves at them both, with a grin so wide and friendly Kevin feels himself relax. “Hey, Kevin,” he says. “Mike’s talked about you so much, I feel like I know you already!”

Mike rolls his eyes, but his cheeks are pink. “Brendon’s a gay ex-Christian too,” he informs Kevin, matter-of-fact, and Kevin’s eyes widen.

“Mormon,” Brendon says, holding up a hand. “You?”

“Assemblies of God,” Kevin says. “My father’s a minister in the church.”

Brendon lets out a low whistle, says, “Ouch.”

“He’s really supportive, though,” Kevin says quickly, “and my mom, too, and all my brothers.”

Brendon raises his eyebrows. “Mine kicked me out of the house when I was seventeen,” he says with a chuckle.

“Ouch,” Kevin echoes, his eyes wide. He tries to imagine his parents kicking him out and winces.

“They’re better now,” Brendon assures him, “but before, they weren’t very understanding when I told them I didn’t believe any more. I didn’t tell them I was gay then, that would just have been the icing on the cake.” He shrugs, like it doesn’t matter to him. “I don’t think they’d understand, even now.”

“I’m sorry,” Kevin says, worrying his lower lip with his teeth. “That really sucks.”

Brendon shrugs. “Like I said, they’re better now. They don’t like that I don’t believe any more, but they’ve accepted that it isn’t something they can change.”

“I don’t know what I believe,” Kevin says, quietly, so they can’t hear him. He thinks Mike maybe hears him anyway because he takes Kevin’s hand under the table, squeezing until Kevin gives him a weak smile in return.

“I think that’s my cue to leave,” Brendon says, his chair scraping back against the tiled floor. “Have fun, kids! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“That doesn’t exactly leave much,” Mike calls after Brendon’s retreating back, shaking his head when Brendon laughs and shuts the door behind himself. He turns to Kevin, looking wary. “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, again, I just thought-”

“I wasn’t uncomfortable,” Kevin assures him. “Brendon’s a nice guy. Thanks for...” He trails off when he realises he doesn’t know how to finish, giving a helpless shrug. “Everything, I guess.”

Mike kisses him quickly, just a soft brush of his lips before he’s pulling away again. “You’re welcome,” he murmurs, his eyes soft. But then he grins, wickedly, and adds, “Don’t thank me yet, though. I believe I owe you an orgasm.”

Kevin grins helplessly back and doesn’t even try and resist when Mike grabs his hand to tug him upstairs.

  
**{ carden }**   


Mike jerks Kevin off against the wall of Ryland’s room, teasing him until he rests his head against Mike’s chest and traces his desperate pleas into Mike’s skin. Mike gives Kevin what he needs and regardless of what Mike said says about his orgasm face, Kevin is beautiful when he comes, his head tipped back and his pupils blown wide even as his eyes roll back in their sockets.

Mike goes to wipe his hand off on his already sticky sweatpants, but he stops when he remembers Kevin licking his own hand clean earlier. Kevin sucked each individual digit into his mouth and swirled his tongue around it, effortlessly catching every trace of come he could reach. Mike swallows, remembering the way Kevin looked at him after, utterly innocent, like he had no idea how ridiculously hot he was without even _trying_.

“Mike?”

Kevin sounds kind of concerned and Mike startles. He realises, belatedly, that he’s been staring at Kevin’s mouth for kind of a while. He gives Kevin a sheepish smile and then leans forward to kiss him quickly before grabbing his hand and tugging him over to the bed.

Kevin grins at him when they’re vertical, says, “Hi.”

“Hey,” Mike responds, smirking. He leans forward and kisses Kevin, slow and lazy and deep. Kevin’s cheeks are pink when Mike pulls back to let him breathe. He starts speaking just as Mike is leaning back in to kiss him again.

“Can I ask you something?” he asks, hesitantly, and Mike nods. “Were you really jealous, before?”

Mike remembers the way Gabe looked at Kevin and the way Kevin looked back and can’t hold back a grimace.

“Kind of, yeah,” he admits, with a wry little laugh that tickles Kevin’s face.

“Really?” Kevin frowns. “Why?”

“Kevin,” Mike says, barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes, “I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you this, but you’re sort of amazing. No, seriously, you are,” he insists, when Kevin opens his mouth to protest. “And I really like you, if you hadn’t already noticed.”

“Really?” Kevin whispers, his eyes impossibly wide.

“Really,” Mike repeats, exasperated, but there’s something warm spreading in his chest and it feels a lot like affection. “I thought it was kind of obvious.”

Kevin throws his arms around Mike’s neck and pulls him close. “I really like you too,” he mumbles into Mike’s ear, pressing his grin to Mike’s cheek. That surprises a laugh out of him and he hugs Kevin back, leaving his hands resting comfortably at Kevin’s waist.

  
**{ jonas }**   


“Did you have a good time?” Joe asks, pouncing on Kevin the instant he gets through the door of what used to be their old bedroom before Kevin moved out.

Kevin startles, eyes wide. “What?” he says stupidly. “A good time where?”

Joe rolls his eyes at him. “With whoever keeps making you smile like this,” he says, like this is obvious. “It was the same guy as yesterday, right?”

Kevin bites his lip, sits slowly down on the bed next to Joe. “Yeah,” he says. “Sort of.”

“What do you mean, sort of?” Joe looks confused. “Is he or isn’t he?”

“Well yeah, it is him, but it’s not like _that_.” Kevin swallows. “He’s not- he’s not like the others.”

“I sort of figured that out. You never do the same guy twice.” Joe frowns. “Wait, you didn’t-”

“No,” Kevin says quickly, _not this time_ , but he really doesn’t think Joe needs to know about that part. “We just hung out.” A grin spreads across his face, unfettered and free. “I had a great time.”

There’s an odd look on Joe’s face that Kevin can’t quite put a name to when he says, “Huh. So what’s his name?”

“Mike,” Kevin says, shyly. “Mike Carden. He’s in one of my classes at college.”

Joe arches an eyebrow. “Really? Is he hot?”

Kevin thinks about Mike’s eyes, the way they light up when he smiles. “I guess, yeah.”

“Does he like you?” Joe asks, carefully, and Kevin grins.

“Yeah,” he says, “I think he kind of does.”

Joe nudges Kevin’s side. “Don’t break his heart,” he says, and though his voice is light there’s that same odd look on his face.

“I don’t think he likes me _that_ much,” Kevin says, colouring slightly, but Joe just shrugs.

“Be careful anyway,” he says, and Kevin nods. He’s always careful.

  
**{ carden }**   


Dating Kevin is simultaneously awesome and exhausting. It’s been nearly a month since the party and he’s still walking on eggshells around Mike. Mike has to keep telling him that, yes, he does still want to see him and, yes, he does still like him and, no, he hasn’t suddenly decided that Kevin isn’t worth his time any more, and it’s getting to be a bit too much. Mike can’t understand it, can’t understand how Kevin doesn’t see how ridiculously gone for him Mike is.

(It’s still kind of awesome, though. They can spend hours together, not even kissing, sometimes not even talking, just lying next to each other doing nothing at all. Kevin’s easy to talk to, though, and he’s even easier to kiss. Kevin kisses him like it’s his last chance to do it every single time, and it’s _awesome_.)

Mike’s meeting Kevin at the mall for dinner and a movie, and he’s kind of hoping it’s cliché enough that Kevin will have to see that Mike is in this for the long haul. And, wow, that’s kind of scary to comprehend considering he had maybe one serious relationship before he met Kevin. (To be fair, that’s one more than Kevin’s had, but it’s still intimidating as fuck.)

Mike does want something serious with Kevin, though, which is why when he gets to the movie theatre, he kisses Kevin in front of everyone there and gives him a wide grin when he pulls away.

“Hey,” he says, ignoring the catcalls and sniggering coming from somewhere behind them. “You been waiting here long?”

Kevin shakes his head. The tips of his cheeks are pink and he isn’t quite looking at Mike. “Just a few minutes,” he says. “I’ve got tickets already, but I wasn’t sure what kind of popcorn you like.”

They end up getting a large bucket of cinema sweet popcorn and a massive Coke with two straws to share, because it’s cheaper than getting two smaller ones. Mike insists on paying for the food, since Kevin paid for the tickets, and they’re supposed to be splitting the bill for the restaurant.

“What movie are we seeing?” Mike asks, throwing an arm around Kevin’s shoulders as they walk. The movement jostles the popcorn clutched in Kevin’s hands but he doesn’t push Mike off him when he’s steady again.

“Rango,” Kevin says, with a little smile that makes Mike want to stretch it wider with his fingers. “Nick’s seen it, he said it’s pretty good.”

“Well, if it has the Jonas brother seal of approval,” Mike says dryly, smiling when it makes Kevin laugh.

A group of guys about their age, about six or seven of them, cheer and wolf-whistle at them as they pass them on their way into their theatre. The smile drops off Kevin’s face and he turns so red Mike thinks his cheeks might burst into flame.

“Do you know them?” he asks, giving Kevin a sidelong look.

“Sort of,” Kevin mumbles. “Come on, the film’s going to start soon.”

They head for an empty row near the middle, tiptoeing through the half-darkness to find their way. Mike slides his arm around Kevin when they’re sitting down, not messing around or trying to pass it off as anything other than what it is, and is rewarded by Kevin smiling at him.

The adverts have all but finished when the first popcorn kernel hits the back of Mike’s head. It doesn’t hurt or anything, he barely even feels it ping against his skull and fall to the ground, but the raucous laughter that follows the impact is kind of annoying. He twists around in his seat to glare at the culprits and finds the group of boys who were giving Kevin a hard time earlier. He glares at them harder.

Kevin puts his hand on Mike’s arm and he turns around, trying to make himself smile. Kevin returns his effort, and they turn their heads back to the screen where the film’s about to start.

The boys behind them give up throwing popcorn at them halfway through, probably because they’ve run out, but they keep whispering and laughing, every time Mike so much as tries to touch Kevin’s hand. By the time the credits have started to roll, Mike is about ready to punch every last one of them in their stupid faces. He has absolutely no idea what the fuck’s going on here but he doesn’t like it one bit, not least because Kevin looks so _tired_.

Mike glares at the group of guys as they head past them, laughing obnoxiously. “Who the fuck were they, anyway?” he demands, turning to Kevin.

“They’re, um, they, I’ve sort of-” He waves his hands around with a grimace which doesn’t explain very much, but Mike understands. “To all of them. In, um, in one night.”

Mike arches an eyebrow. That’s probably some kind of achievement; there are about six guys in the group in total. “Makes sense, I guess,” he says. “That’s why they’re giving you hassle?”

Kevin frowns at him. “Yeah,” he says, sounding confused. “Doesn’t it- doesn’t it bother you? That I’ve... you know, with a lot of other guys?”

“Makes no difference to me who you fucked before me.” Kevin flinches and Mike frowns. “I kind of knew I wasn’t the first, okay?”

“You know what I’ve done?” Kevin looks incredulous, his lips parted and his eyes wide. Mike wants to rub the crease out from between his eyebrows, but his hands are frozen at his sides. He can’t understand why Kevin is so upset about this. “And it doesn’t matter to you at all?”

“I sort of figured it was just, like, something you did,” Mike says, shrugging. “I didn’t think it was a big deal, as long as you weren’t doing it while we-” He breaks off, something squeezing tight around his chest. “You haven’t, have you?”

“No, of course not, I just- oh god,” Kevin says, clapping a hand over his mouth in horror. “Do you know about Gabe? You know about Gabe, don’t you?”

“Well, yeah,” Mike says, confused, and Kevin lets out a groan. “Seriously, Kevin, why the fuck does it matter?”

“Because I didn’t want you to _know_!” Kevin retorts, his voice going shrill on the last word.

People around them look over, curious to see what the commotion is about. Mike shifts, uncomfortable, and reaches out to Kevin to touch his arm. Kevin doesn’t flinch away, but his skin is taut under Mike’s hand.

“Calm down, okay?” he says, trying for soothing. “It doesn’t matter to me, I don’t think any less of you because of it, so why does it matter to you?”

“Because it _does_ ,” Kevin says desperately. “Because you should.”

“Kevin,” Mike starts, his eyes narrowed, but Kevin just shakes his head.

“I’m sorry,” he says, stupidly, illogically, because what the fuck does he have to be sorry about? “I didn’t want you to know. I thought-” Kevin sags, looking defeated. “I thought you wouldn’t like me, if you knew what I’ve done,” he admits, so quietly Mike has to strain to hear him.

“I do,” Mike says, sort of fiercely, because _this_ part is important. Not the fact that Kevin apparently really, really likes giving head, Mike doesn’t give a shit about that, the fact that Kevin can’t see what’s fucking _right in front of his face_. “I don’t care about what you have or haven’t done, Kevin. I really like you.” He steps forward and cups Kevin’s face, tracing the curve of his cheek with his thumb. Kevin doesn’t flinch, but he doesn’t meet Mike’s intent gaze either. “Why does it matter?”

Kevin swallows. Mike watches the lump travel down his throat, bobbing at his Adam’s apple.

“I,” he starts, glancing up at Mike with eyes that are tiny and helpless and scared, “I just-” He exhales, deflating along with the air leaving his lungs, and glances. “Nothing. It doesn’t. Let’s just go, okay?”

Mike tries to protest but Kevin just grabs his hand and jerks him away, still looking determinedly anywhere but at him.

  
**{ jonas }**   


Kevin can’t believe that Mike _knows_. Realistically, he knows it was stupid of him to think that Mike didn’t know, considering he doesn’t exactly make an effort to keep it a secret from anyone except his parents, but he didn’t really think about it before. He didn’t want to think about it.

 _Why does it matter?_

Mike looked so confused when he asked, like he honestly didn’t understand. And that’s fair, Kevin figures, because he’s not sure he understands himself, why the realisation that Mike knows made something a little like fear and a lot like self-loathing twist in Kevin’s gut. It just makes it all so horribly complicated, makes Kevin feel like all his layers have been stripped away and he’s got nothing left to hide behind. (Kevin always feels exposed around Mike in a way he’s never let himself be but this is different. This is terrifying.)

Kevin can tell Mike is worried about him. He steals little looks at him when he thinks Kevin isn’t watching, averting his gaze to his food when Kevin glances up. Kevin chews his own food slowly, hunched over the table, and when he swallows he talks about anything just to fill the silence. Mike talks back, when Kevin gives him enough space to reply, but he can hear the edge to his voice, the undertone of concern, and he hates it. He hates himself for fucking this up _again_.

(He wonders, absently, if this time will be the one when Mike realises how stupid he’s being and breaks off whatever it is this thing between them is, if he’s finally had enough of Kevin. He can’t bring himself to hope that it isn’t.)

“Kevin?” The worry is more obvious in Mike’s voice this time and Kevin looks up, smile already in place. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he lies. “Yeah, I just- I just need to go to the bathroom. I’ll be back in a minute.”

He gets to his feet, pushing his chair back silently across the carpet, and offers Mike one last attempt at a smile before he heads for the men’s room. He makes a beeline for the sinks, gulping in a few deep breaths as he splashes his face with cold water. Hands braced on either side of the sink, he breathes heavily for a few moments.

“Hey, cocksucker.”

Kevin’s entire body stiffens. He knows instantly, without any reasonable doubt, that the boy is talking to him.

“Hi,” Kevin says, pivoting slowly. It’s one of the boys from the group before, Craig or Calvin or something like that, the first one of the lot Kevin went to his knees for. He’s staring at Kevin’s reflection in the mirror, lounging against one of the cubicle doors. “You were at the cinema, weren’t you? Small world.” He forces a nervous laugh. “I should go, I have to-”

“Gotta get back to your boyfriend?” maybe-Craig says, something mocking in the quirk of his eyebrows.

“Yeah, actually,” Kevin says, “so if you’d excuse me-”

Craig steps forward, into Kevin’s space. Kevin knocks into the sink as he tries to back away.

“Seriously?” Craig is definitely mocking him this time, his mouth curled into a full on sneer. “Sluts like you don’t do boyfriends.”

Kevin flinches. “I’m not-”

“You are,” Craig says, simply, like he’s just stating a fact. “You’d probably be on your knees already if you didn’t have someone else out there.” He cocks his head, thoughtful, then steps even closer, placing his hands on the sink either side of Kevin’s body. “You’d probably do it anyway.”

“No,” Kevin manages, shaking his head hard. “I’m not, I wouldn’t.”

Craig leans forward like he’s going to kiss Kevin, but he only hovers over Kevin’s mouth for a few seconds before pulling away, smirking.

“Not worth it,” he says, stepping back. “Don’t want to catch anything.”

Craig tosses a look of faint disgust over his shoulder as he saunters out, leaving Kevin standing there with his heart pounding in his chest, a sick feeling spreading from his gut. Craig’s right and he’s wrong, he’s _wrong_ , and he can’t pretend any more.

“Kevin?” Mike says, frowning up at Kevin as he lifts his jacket from the chair and slips it over his shoulders. “Are you okay?”

“I have to go,” he says, distantly proud of the steadiness of his voice. “I’m sorry. I can’t- I can’t do this any more.”

Mike’s eyes go wide. “What? Kevin, what are you-”

But Kevin’s already striding away, his phone clutched tightly in his hands as he texts Joe to pick him up. Mike doesn’t follow him, and Kevin tries not to let that hurt him. He doesn’t start running until he’s turned the corner, until he can’t keep the tears back any longer.


	3. be more like the man you were made to be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _love, it will not betray you  
>  dismay or enslave you, it will set you free  
> be more like the man you were made to be_   
> **sigh no more; mumford and sons**

  
**{ jonas }**   


Kevin figures out he’s gay when he’s fifteen.

There’s this boy called Noah who’s in several of Kevin’s classes, who has dark brown hair that curls towards his ears and dark brown eyes shadowed with thick lashes that all the girls swoon over, and Kevin can’t stop thinking about him.

It’s a complete disaster.

Kevin’s never really given much thought to the fact that he’s never, to the best of his knowledge, had a crush on a girl before. He’s never really thought about the fact that he doesn’t find girls attractive the way the other boys at school seem to.

But now he has a huge, ginormous crush on a _boy_ , a boy with sharp lines and flat planes and a really, really nice smile that Kevin can’t stop thinking about and it’s the worst thing in the world.

Kevin has always believed in God. His parents were instrumental in him becoming a Christian, of course, but Kevin thinks he would have found his way to Him eventually even without their help because he’s just honestly always believed, for as long as he can remember.

God hates homosexuality. Everyone knows that. It’s an abomination in His eyes, a subversion of the true human nature. It’s _wrong_ , wrong the way Satan is wrong, wrong the way lying or cheating or killing is wrong. Wrong the way Kevin is wrong.

For months, he pretends to himself that he doesn’t think about Noah when his attention is drifting in class. For months, he pretends to himself that he’d much rather go with Lucy, his pretty, blonde, _female_ girlfriend. For months, he pretends to himself that he hasn’t damned himself to hell.

It doesn’t work. It doesn’t work and people start to notice his wandering gaze, the way he’s slowly withdrawing himself from all his friends. He starts getting casual insults thrown his way, nothing meant to hurt, just meant to prod and poke and tease and test. His reaction is enough to let people know that they’re right, that he’s nothing but a dirty little faggot.

He comes home one day and his mom smiles at him like she does every day and asks him how his day was. He lies, like he’s become accustomed to, pretending that he’s fine and that he still has people who’re willing to tolerate his presence and that he doesn’t get jeered at and taunted at least five times a day.

(Kevin is exhausted with pretence, with keeping everything contained in a tiny unmarked box at the back of his brain. He doesn’t know how much longer he can keep lying.)

His mom asks him to watch Frankie while she makes dinner and Kevin is only too happy to oblige. He loves all his brothers, so much, but he reserves something special for Frankie, who is so small and vulnerable but unbelievably fierce, even at two years old.

“Hey,” Kevin says, watching Frankie bash at something red and plastic with focused determination. “You good, Bonus?”

Frankie nods, not taking his attention from whatever it is he’s doing.

“Good,” Kevin says, nodding. “I’m not. I-” He swallows, hard. “I like boys, Frankie,” he whispers. It’s the first time he’s said the words out loud and it feels like there’s something squeezing tight around his chest. But it’s a good hurt, the kind of hurt you feel when you pull a massive splinter out your leg. “I’m gay.”

“Gay,” Frankie repeats, cheerfully, and Kevin can’t help but smile as he watches his littlest brother play.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “You’re the first person I’ve told, and you have no idea what I’m saying.” He laughs, the sound like shards of broken glass scratching out of his throat. “At least you can’t hate me for it. The people at school already do, so it’s only a matter of time before everyone else does too.” His eyes flutter shut, a grimace crossing his lips. “I’m a horrible evil sinner and I’m going to hell and-”

There’s a sound, like something scratching across wood and Kevin’s head rockets upwards, his eyes widening.

Joe’s frozen in the doorway, his mouth hanging open.

“Kevin,” he says, helplessly, and Kevin squeezes his eyes shut. He can’t look at Joe, can’t let himself. He thinks it would kill him to look in his eyes and see nothing but hate.

He scrambles to his feet, his heart pounding in his chest, and flees the room before Joe can say anything more. He locks himself in his room, buries his head under the pillow to drown out the noise of Joe banging on his door and begging him to come out and talk to him.

When the sound finally quiets, Kevin moves quickly. He grabs a change of clothes and all the money he has saved (which is, in all honesty, not a whole lot) and stuffs it all into a rucksack. He’s completely unprepared for this but he doesn’t know what else to do and he’s out of the house now and running like the hounds of hell are on his heels before he can talk himself out of it.

Eventually, he finds himself sitting in a park on the other side of town. He buys a coffee with the money he brought with him and rolls the meagre change between his fingers while he sits on the bench and tries to figure out what he’s supposed to do now.

Kevin prays, once, asking God what he should do, but his only answer is silence. He cries. He cries more than he ever has in his life (but not more than he ever will).

When the tears finally stop, he runs through all his possible options, trying to figure out if there’s anyone he can stay with who won’t hand him back over to his family. He can’t think of anyone.

His despair is almost palpable as he lies down on the bench wearing every piece of clothing he brought with him and prays to anyone who might be listening that he doesn’t freeze to death. Or maybe that he does, he isn’t sure at this point. It might be easier to die, to end his fragile existence before he has a chance to properly sin and damn himself for good, but Kevin is too much of a coward to do it himself.

 _The morning_ , he thinks, suddenly exhausted. He’ll figure this out in the morning.

When he wakes up in the morning, Joe is curled up on the end of the bench by his feet.

“You _asshole_ ,” he says, when he notices that Kevin’s woken up. “You’re coming home, right now. Mom and Dad are going crazy, they’re so worried about you.”

“Did you tell them?” Kevin asks quietly.

Joe kind of looks like he’s about to cry. “They don’t _care_ , Kevin, none of us care. It doesn’t matter. It’s not like you can help it, it’s not like you have a choice, it’s who you are.”

And Kevin... Kevin wants to believe him, really he does, but that isn’t what God says and it isn’t what their religion says and he _can’t_.

“God doesn’t care either,” Joe says, like he can see the doubt in Kevin’s eyes. “He _can’t_. God loves everyone, it doesn’t matter who they are.”

Kevin swallows, hard. He lets Joe take his hand, lets him walk them back home. His parents cry when they walk through the door, gathering Kevin between them both to hug him hard.

“Nick’s still asleep,” his mom says when he asks. “He was up all night worrying about you, he’s exhausted.”

Kevin ducks his head, ashamed. He didn’t mean for them to worry about him like this. He was really, really unprepared for running away; he was always going to come back. He didn’t think they wouldn’t realise this.

“Can you go check on your little brothers, Joe?” his dad asks, pulling away. “We need to talk to Kevin alone for a minute.”

Kevin’s blood runs cold. He doesn’t look at his parents when they sit him down on the sofa, doesn’t raise his eyes from the ground. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to stop himself from crying if he does.

“Joe told us why you ran away,” his dad says eventually. “Why didn’t you say anything to us, Kevin? We can’t help you if you don’t tell us when you’re hurting and confused.”

“I didn’t want you to be ashamed of me,” Kevin says, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I didn’t want you to hate me.”

“Kevin, we’re your _family_ ,” his mom says, a sort of fierceness in her eyes. “We could never hate you, no matter who you are, do you understand that?”

His dad’s eyes are serious when he says, “You are not a sinner, Kevin. I don’t care what the Assemblies of God say,” he says, firmly, and Kevin’s eyes widen with shock, “love can never be sinful, no matter who it is between.”

And then Kevin really does cry, wrapped up in his parents’ arms with his head buried in his mom’s shoulder. He didn’t realise how much he needed to hear them say that they still love him, even if it’s not them he needs to hear it from.

  
**{ jonas }**   


After Kevin’s failed attempt at running away, things finally start to change. Kevin admits that he’s been having trouble at school and his parents’ decide that it’s best for everyone involved if they move away at the end of the semester, get a fresh start somewhere new. It’s not as hard to leave Jersey as Kevin thought it would be, and he isn’t sure how to feel about that.

Kevin still goes to church, practically every single Sunday. His parents don’t force him to, but there’s a terrible sadness in their eyes every time he turns away and says _no_ and he hates himself for putting it there. He tries not to protest too much.

(He still prays, every single night, begging for guidance and for clarity and for a sign, just something to show that his family isn’t wrong, that _he_ isn’t wrong, that it’s okay.

He never gets an answer. He goes to bed feeling hollow and empty every single night.)

At his new school, Kevin keeps his head down and doesn’t even try and make friends. He hates it. Kevin is a naturally friendly person and he misses having people to talk to and hang out with so much the loneliness is almost unbearable, but he’s terrified that if he were to get close to someone, they would turn on him when they find out what he really is like his old friends did. Kevin doesn’t think he can handle that again.

There is this one girl in his Algebra class, though. Her name is Nicole and she smiles at Kevin a lot and lets him copy her work when he doesn’t have time to do it himself. She seems nice, really nice, and Kevin thinks they could have been friends, in another lifetime. He doesn’t let himself dwell on it too much. He doesn’t let himself think about what it would be like to hang out with Nicole, what it would be like to let himself let her befriend him.

He underestimated Nicole’s determination, though. About a month and a half into the new semester, she taps him on the shoulder at the end of class before he can flee the room.

“Are you doing anything this weekend?” she asks, with a perfectly innocent smile. Kevin shakes his head warily; he’s never doing anything at the weekend. “Great! You are now. Someone I know is having a party and it should be awesome, but it won’t be half as awesome if you’re not there.”

She grabs his arm before he can protest and scribbles something on his skin with a marker pen. When he takes his arm back, there’s an address written in black ink. Nicole’s signed her name underneath with a smiley face and two kisses.

“I don’t-” Kevin starts, but before he can finish his protest Nicole is out of her seat and heading out of the classroom, tossing a cheerful “See you there!” over her shoulder.

Kevin goes to the party. (He feels guilty for pushing Nicole away when she tried to talk to him before because she was only being nice, and he doesn’t want to disappoint her again. He hates disappointing people.)

He tells his parents that he’s sleeping over at a friend’s house and that he’ll make his own way back whenever he’s ready to come home, swallowing his guilt at how easy it is to lie to them. They’re so pleased that he’s finally making friends that they don’t ask any of the questions they normally would.

Truthfully, it’s not as awful as he was expecting it to be. A boy he’s never seen him before in his life collars him while he’s searching for someone he recognises, introducing himself as “Guy Ripley, terribly glad to make your acquaintance,” with what sounds like a British accent.

The boy next to him rolls his eyes, says, “Leave the kid alone, Ryland. He looks like a lost puppy or something, he doesn’t need this shit.”

“You ruin all my fun, Suarez,” says Guy (Ryland?) sadly, the accent gone from his voice.

He hands Kevin a can of something and tells him to drink it, with a smile that is equal parts friendly and creepy, so Kevin does. It burns his throat on the way down but it has a strangely appealing aftertaste, so Kevin drinks the rest of it and then asks Ryland for another can.

By the time he ends up in a closet with Gabe Saporta, Kevin is more than a little bit tipsy. He thinks they’re supposed to be playing Seven Minutes in Heaven or something? Kevin’s only barely heard of the game so he is completely unfamiliar with the rules, but he knows there should be kissing. Which, okay, kissing, Kevin is fine with kissing, he can totally kiss a boy in a closet at a party, no problem.

“Are you freaking out?” Gabe asks, eyeing him warily. Kevin drags his gaze up from the floor and startles; Gabe is standing very, very close. “You look like you’re freaking out.”

“I’m not freaking out,” Kevin says, too quickly.

Gabe’s lips twitch into a soft smile. “It’s just kissing, Jonas,” he says, and Kevin startles. How does Gabe, a senior, a totally cool senior who has never so much as acknowledged Kevin’s existence before today, know who he is? “It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“I’m not freaking out,” Kevin repeats.

“Good,” Gabe says softly, and then he hooks his fingers in the belt loops of Kevin’s jeans and pulls him close. Kevin is breathing heavily, chest heaving with it, and Gabe smiles at him as he leans down – wow, Kevin really hadn’t noticed how tall Gabe was before – and kisses him.

It’s weird, because Kevin has someone else’s lips on his, someone else’s tongue in his mouth, someone else’s body pressed up against his, but the weirdest part about it is that it doesn’t feel that weird at all. Gabe’s mouth is soft, softer than Kevin was expecting, his fingers gentle where they’re stroking lightly under Kevin’s t-shirt, like he’s afraid of pushing him too far.

“Okay?” Gabe asks, pulling back after a minute or so. Kevin doesn’t trust himself to speak so he just nods fervently, blushing a little when Gabe smirks at him.

This time, Kevin kisses back when Gabe presses their lips together. He can’t be very good because he’s never kissed anyone at all before today but Gabe seems to like it, as far as Kevin can tell.

He puts one hand on Kevin’s ass and slides another up to cup Kevin’s face and murmurs, into Kevin’s ear, “You’re kind of hot, you know that?”

Kevin shakes his head, feeling himself flush. People have told him he’s cute before, but that isn’t anywhere the same thing. Gabe’s staring at him now, a considering sort of look on his face, and Kevin reaches up on tiptoe to kiss him, just on impulse. It turns out to be a bad idea, though, because he loses his balance and lands on his ass.

Kevin bursts into helpless giggles because he can’t not and above him, Gabe starts laughing too. He looks gorgeous from this angle, even more so than usual, and Kevin stops giggling.

“Hi,” he says, distantly proud of the steadiness of his voice.

“Hi,” Gabe says. He sounds kind of hoarse. Kevin doesn’t know what that means but it makes something hot curl low in his belly. He sits forward, still kneeling on the ground, and shuffles over to Gabe, reaching for his hips. Gabe watches him, curious, his eyes going wide when Kevin starts tugging his jeans down.

“No, hey, we don’t have time for- ungh,” Gabe groans, because Kevin’s got his mouth on Gabe’s dick. It doesn’t taste as weird as he thought it would, in the idle fantasies that he’s never let stray too far, but it’s thick and heavy on his tongue and he’s not entirely sure what to do with it. He pulls off before he starts choking, rubbing at his jaw to get rid of the ache.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, feeling his face go hot. “Sorry, sorry, I just- I haven’t really done this before.”

“You’re doing fine,” Gabe assures him, and Kevin would think he were just being nice if it weren’t for how low his voice is, how much it sounds like sex. It makes him blush harder, but for entirely different reasons this time. “Just, here, try this instead.”

He takes Kevin’s hand and wraps it loosely around the base of his dick, curls his other hand into Kevin’s hair so he can guide his head into the position he wants.

“Don’t take it all in at once or you really will choke,” Gabe says, and he’s smirking but his eyes are soft. “Go slow, okay?”

Kevin licks around the head, tentative, before sliding his mouth up and down an inch or two and Gabe’s right, it’s _much_ better like this. Distantly, though, he can hear someone banging on the door to let them know their time is up and he starts pulling off, reluctant.

“Fuck,” Gabe grinds out, “don’t stop, please, don’t, I just, I need-”

Kevin smiles, can’t stop his lips curving upwards, and starts sucking again in earnest. The noise Gabe makes in return makes something warm bubble up in Kevin’s chest, pushing at the vague edges of his drunken haze.

“ _Fuck_ , Kevin,” Gabe says suddenly, his voice utterly wrecked and, hey, there’s that warmth in Kevin’s chest again, “I’m gonna, you have to-”

He pushes at Kevin’s head and suddenly Kevin understands, pulling off entirely and sitting back on his heels so he can watch Gabe watch him while he jerks himself off.

Gabe comes in seconds, spurting all over his hand, and all Kevin can think is _I did that_ , over and over and over. His eyes are wide and he can feel his lips curling into what is probably the stupidest grin in the world, but he can’t bring himself to care. He just blew

“Fuck,” Gabe repeats, quieter this time. “You have no idea what you look like right now, do you?” He laughs softly, murmurs something too quiet for Kevin to hear, then, “Hey,” he says, his eyes dark, “want me to return the favour?”

Kevin opens his mouth to say yes, or more likely _yes, yeah, please, I really, god, I’d really like that_ because he babbles something crazy when he’s nervous or afraid, but then there’s a rapping on the closet and someone who sounds suspiciously like William Beckett yelling that, seriously, if they don’t open the door right now he’s going to kick it down himself.

Kevin shakes his head reluctantly and lets Gabe pull him to his feet and kiss him, quick and hard and dirty. He doesn’t even blush too hard when they emerge from the closet and everyone starts cheering and wolf-whistling, too addled by the alcohol coursing through his veins to care.

He cares when he wakes up the next morning, though.

It’s early, too early, and there’s a knee digging into his back. His head is spinning with what feels like the worst hangover in the _world_ – not that Kevin has much experience there, but it’s pretty awful – and there’s a hollowness in his chest that feels like it’s eating up everything inside of him. He sneaks out the back of the house, picking his way through other passed-out bodies, and vows never to drink alcohol again when every movement makes his head feel like it’s about to split open.

His parents are still asleep when he gets home, tiptoeing in through the back door. Kevin is grateful for that, for not having to lie to them again. He trudges up to the room he shares with Joe and dumps his stuff on the side, crumpling into a heap on the bed, still in his own clothes. Toying with the purity ring on his finger, Kevin stares up at the ceiling and tries to see something more than white.

“Are you drunk?”

Kevin lets out a quiet groan. “No, Joe, go back to sleep.”

Joe sits up in bed, looking triumphant. “You are, aren’t you?” he crows. “I knew you were going to a party.”

“I am not drunk, I am hungover,” Kevin corrects, unable to help the irritation that creeps into his voice. “Please, can you just be quiet?”

“Was it fun?” Joe asks, undeterred. “The party, did you have a good time?”

Kevin thinks past the haze, remembering. There are parts of last night he can hardly recall at all but what happened in the closet burns fierce and bright and Kevin doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to forget it.

“Yeah,” he says, quietly, “I guess I did.”

Joe leaves him alone after pestering him with a few more questions and grudgingly promising not to tell their parents about the party. Kevin listens to the sound of Joe’s breathing evening out and, when he’s certain his brother is asleep again, he raises his eyes to the ceiling and asks God to forgive him.

When he finishes, he feels something, something stirring in his chest. It’s not exactly a good something, but he hasn’t felt anything after praying for years, so he thinks (hopes) it’s a good thing.

The next time Kevin sees Nicole, he smiles and says hello first. He thanks her for inviting him to the party and says he had a great time, and she smiles so wide he kind of thinks her face might split in two.

After that, he starts talking to her in class and meeting her in the mornings by her locker and sitting with her and her friends at lunch. He didn’t realise what a difference it makes, having someone to stand beside you and help you shoulder your way through the day. Life seems a little less dismal and a little more bright every time Nicole asks him about his day or links their arms together when they’re walking through the halls or just smiles at him for no reason at all.

“Call me Nic,” she says, one day, about a fortnight after the party. “All my friends do.”

“Sure,” he says, trying with very little success to hide the grin lighting up his face. “Nic.”

Gradually, he starts going to church less and less until he’s stopped going altogether. He goes to parties instead and finds boys who aren’t fussy about what’s on the end of the mouth around their dick.

By the time he graduates, he’s sucked off pretty much every guy in his grade and plenty more besides and he’s earned himself a reputation doing it.

He’s Kevin Jonas, the boy who’ll go to his knees for anyone who asks, and that is all he’ll ever be.

  
**{ carden }**   


Mike hasn’t seen or talked to Kevin at all since he freaked out and ran out on him last week. He hasn’t turned up to any of his classes and he hasn’t replied to any of Mike’s texts and his phone goes straight to voicemail when Mike tries to call him.

When he knocks on Kevin’s dorm room door at the end of the week, at a loss for what else to do, it’s his roommate who comes to the door.

“Kevin’s not here,” Zac says, looking apologetic. “He’s gone to stay with his parents for a while. He didn’t say when he’d be back.”

Mike doesn’t know where Kevin’s parents live, and Zac doesn’t either. Mike mumbles a thank you anyway, ignoring the pity in Zac’s eyes, and trudges away. He doesn’t want to go back to his own room and he doesn’t think he can face going to Gabe’s either because he knows Bill will probably be there too, so he doesn’t do either. He heads off campus and takes a bus into town and when he gets off, he wanders the streets until he stops outside the Umbrella Academy.

Mike heads inside, glancing around himself. Kevin is nowhere to be seen and Mike didn’t realise that he was kind of counting on him being here until he wasn’t. The disappointment weighs on him hard, crushing him in on all sides, and he almost turns right round again and leaves when he spots Nic and Jon behind the counter.

“Hey,” Mike says, waving at them as he approaches. “You haven’t seen Kevin recently, have you?”

Jon gives an apologetic shake of his head and Mike tries not to let the disappointment show on his face. “Sorry, dude, he hasn’t been in for ages. We thought he was busy with you or something,” Jon says, lightly, but Mike can see his own worry echoed in his eyes.

“Is something wrong?” Nic asks, her eyes narrowed. “Did you do something?”

“No! Well, maybe,” Mike amends, with a helpless little shrug. “I don’t fucking know, that’s the problem. He just freaked out on me and now he won’t return my calls and he won’t let me see him and I don’t even know what I did wrong because he won’t _tell me_ and I can’t even make it better somehow because he won’t let me try.”

Jon hands him a coffee Mike hadn’t noticed him making. “That really sucks,” he says, smiling sympathetically.

“It really does,” Mike agrees, lifting the coffee to his lips. It’s an Our Lady of Sorrows mocha and it’s just as delicious as Mike remembered it being. It sort of makes him want to cry. “Thanks.”

“I’m just going to make a call,” Nic says, her lips a grim line. “Be right back.”

Jon turns to Kevin Mike when Nic disappears behind a door marked _Employees Only_. “Coffee is the cure for all ills, my friend,” he says gravely. “You want some more? Don’t worry about money,” he adds, when Mike feels for his wallet, “it’s on me.”

“Thanks,” Mike repeats, taking the cup Jon offers him with a grateful smile. He doesn’t have the energy to protest about being a charity case right now.

“So what did Kevin freak out about?” Jon asks. “I mean, there must have been something.”

Mike shrugs, helplessly. “I don’t even know. We had this argument, it was really stupid, but we sort of made up and we were okay. He was okay. And then he just runs off in the middle of the date looking like his world’s fallen apart and he doesn’t answer any of my calls or texts and he clearly doesn’t want anything to do with me any more and _I have no idea why_.”

Ignoring the door creaking open behind them, Jon reaches over to rub his shoulder, comfortingly. It doesn’t really help but Mike leans into it anyway, grateful for the contact.

“It really sucks,” he continues, barely aware of what he’s saying any more, “because Kevin’s sort of amazing and he can’t even see it. He has the worst self-esteem of anyone I’ve ever met and it drives me crazy sometimes because I think I’m kind of in love with him and-”

There’s a sharp intake of breath from behind him and Mike whirls around. For a moment he thinks it’s Kevin standing there, staring at him like he’s never seen him before, but then the haze clears and Mike realises that the hair is different and the eyebrows are thicker and the face is sharper, more angular. It’s not Kevin, but the striking resemblance means it can only be one of his brothers. From the look of the boy Mike would say it’s probably Joe; he looks too old to be Frankie or Nick.

Joe gapes at him for a few more moments, stunned, but then he blinks a few times, hard, and nods to himself. “Okay,” he says, “okay. I’m going to take Mike home with me now. You and Kevin really, really need to talk.”

Jon reaches over to clap Mike on the back. “Go fight for your man, Mike,” he says, grinning at him when Mike rolls his eyes.

Nic skirts around the counter to pull him into a hug. “Kevin’s a very special boy,” she says, right into his ear. “He’s totally worth it.”

“I know,” Mike says, hugging her back, “thanks.”

The drive to the Jonas house of residence is awkward, to say the least. Joe stares straight ahead, focused on the road, drumming his fingers on the dashboard like he isn’t used to staying silent for this long.

“Kevin’s sort of fucked up,” he says eventually. “You probably figured that out already, though.”

Mike just nods; he doesn’t think a verbal response is required from him at this point. Joe bites his lip, weighing his words before he continues.

“I don’t know why he pushed you away, he won’t tell me, but I know it’s nothing you’ve done. Trust me,” Joe says, kind of intensely, “trust me, you’ve done _nothing_ wrong. I kind of think you’re the best thing that’s happened to him in a long time.”

Mike looks away, awkwardly. “I-”

“I’ve never seen him this happy,” Joe says, cutting him off before he has a chance to speak, “not ever. You’re good for him, Mike.”

Mike swallows. Joe doesn’t say anything else. The car is silent for the remainder of the journey until they pull up outside what Mike assumes is Kevin’s parents’ house.

The place is pretty much silent when they get inside and Joe tells Mike, with a kind of significant look in his direction, that everyone else has gone out. Mike tries not to think about what Joe has just given him unspoken permission to do with his older brother as he’s shoved toward a door on the left.

“Joe, I told you to just leave me-” Kevin breaks off when he sees Mike standing next to his brother. “Alone,” he finishes, his gaze dropping to the ground.

“I told you not to break his heart,” Joe says, something in his voice that sounds like reproach, and Kevin closes his eyes.

“Go away, Joe,” he says tiredly. “And take Mike with you. I don’t want to see him.”

“Well I want to see you,” Mike says, as evenly as he can manage. “We need to talk.”

“There is nothing to talk about,” Kevin says, and he still won’t even look at Mike.

Mike is suddenly awfully, blindingly angry, at Kevin, at God, at anyone who ever let Kevin think he’s worthless, and he’s moving before he really knows what he’s doing. He crosses the room in two short strides and grabs Kevin, pulling him to his feet. Kevin’s eyes are wide with shock, and they only widen forward when Mike jerks him forward and crushes their lips together.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Mike tells him, between fierce, bruising kisses that leave Kevin breathless. “You’re a fucking idiot and a fucking asshole but I’m sort of in love with you anyway so shut up and let me kiss you before I fucking change my mind, okay?”

Mike isn’t serious, he’s in way too far over his head to just pull out now, but Kevin seems to take him at face value. He stops resisting entirely and starts kissing Mike back, hard and desperate and clutching at him like he’s the only thing keeping him afloat.

“Sorry,” Kevin gasps out, panting against Mike’s lips, “sorry, sorry, _fuck_ , I’m so sorry.”

Mike’s hand tightens around the back of his neck, but he doesn’t reply. There’s a cough from behind him, a stifled laugh, and Mike remembers that Joe’s still standing there. Reluctantly, he lets Kevin go, sort of unfairly pleased when Kevin falls back on his bed looking utterly wrecked, his hair and shirt a mess from where Mike had been clutching him, his face and lips bright red.

“I’m going to leave you two alone for a bit,” Joe says, sounding half-embarrassed, half-gleeful. “Try and keep it PG, okay? Frankie’s just next door.”

Kevin looks mortified as Joe leaves the room, snickering softly. Mike sort of just wants to go back to kissing him, but Joe has a point. They really do need to talk.

“So,” he says, tugging them both down into a sitting position on Kevin’s bed. “You’re kind of an idiot.”

“You said that already,” Kevin points out, but his lips are twisted into a wry little smile.

“It bears repeating,” Mike says lightly. “I’m going to assume that you haven’t been avoiding me for the past week because you’ve suddenly decided you hate me.”

Kevin’s eyes are wide when he says, “No, no, of course not, I-”

“Good,” Mike says, “so why the fuck _have_ you been ignoring me?”

Mike sees Kevin wilt a little under the strength of his glare, and can’t help but feel a little guilty about the pathetic look on his face, even if this is technically all Kevin’s fault.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I didn’t-” He ducks his head, biting his lip. “I didn’t think you’d care this much. I thought you’d forget about me if I ignored you long enough.”

“Did you miss the part where I fucking _like_ you, Kevin?” Mike says, exasperated. “I don’t just forget about people I like.” But then what Kevin said fully sinks in and he frowns. “Why would you want me to forget about you, anyway?”

Kevin’s shoulders hunch up higher and his hands knot together in his lap. “Because,” he says quietly, “you deserve better than- than a dirty little cocksucker like me.”

“If I actually thought you believed that,” Mike says, careful to keep his voice even, “I’d punch you in the face.” Kevin looks up at him, his face crumpling in on itself. “Fuck,” Mike says, with feeling. “You- seriously? Is this because I-”

“No,” Kevin says quickly. “It’s not because of you.”

“Then _why_?” Mike asks, and Kevin closes his eyes with a quiet sigh.

  
**{ jonas }**   


Kevin tells Mike everything. He tells him about his crush on Noah and how terrified he was when he realised he liked boys. He tells him about coming out to Frankie and about running away and spending a night sleeping on a park bench. He tells him about moving schools and about how miserable he was before Nic adopted him and refused to let him go. He tells him about Gabe – “But I guess you knew about him already,” Kevin says, wincing, but he relaxes when Mike squeezes his hand – and about everyone who came after, skipping most of the details. He tells him about the emptiness and how it only leaves him alone when he’s with Mike.

He tells him everything and when he’s done, he lets out a shuddery breath and stares hard at his old, worn-through carpet. He doesn’t look at Mike. He doesn’t want to see the look on his face. He’s not sure he could bear it.

“Fuck,” Mike says, and he sounds so tired.

He gets to his feet and Kevin half expects him to leave, or to punch him in the face. Kevin braces himself for both, but Mike doesn’t do either. He pulls Kevin up and into a hug, arms wrapped tightly around Kevin’s chest. Kevin is so shocked he just hugs Mike back, burying his head in Mike’s neck.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” Mike says eventually, pulling away enough to fix Kevin with a look. “You are not a faggot, or a slut, or a cocksucker. You’re just a guy who blows other guys sometimes. Understand?”

Kevin nods, dazedly.

“I’m serious,” Mike says, his eyes narrowed. “You so much as think that about yourself again and I will punch you in the face. Also,” he continues, “you don’t get to decide what I do and don’t deserve. I _like_ you, Kevin, and I get that that’s sort of hard for you to believe but you’re awesome and if I want to date you _which I do_ I should be able to do so without you cockblocking me with your fucked up self-worth. We clear?”

Kevin nods again, but this time he manages an apology. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he mumbles. “You weren’t supposed to care.”

Mike sighs, but there’s a fond sort of edge to his exasperation when he says, “We really need to work on your self-esteem, Jonas.”

Kevin opens his mouth to protest but then there’s a knock at his door and his mom’s barging in.

“Kevin Jonas, just because you’re at home for a week does not mean you can dump your dirty laundry on- oh,” she says, stopping short when she catches sight of Mike. “Hello.”

Mike waves awkwardly at her. She gives him a smile that is half-bemused, half-charmed and waves back.

“Hi mom,” Kevin says. “This is Mike.” He grabs Mike’s hand and laces their fingers together, grinning up at his mom. “My boyfriend.”

She arches an eyebrow at him. “Would he happen to be the same boyfriend you’ve been moping over all week?” Kevin’s mouth drops open in shock and she laughs. “Sweetie, I’m your mom. You can’t hide anything from me.”

Kevin very fervently hopes that isn’t true, but he manages a muttered, “I have _not_ been moping.”

“Of course you haven’t,” his mom says indulgently, sharing an eye-roll with Mike. “I assume whatever misunderstanding you had was cleared up?”

Mike nods, slanting his gaze at Kevin. “No more misunderstandings,” he says, and he’s smirking at Kevin in a way that is most definitely mocking but his eyes are soft.

“Glad to hear it,” Kevin’s mom says, beaming. “Would you like to stay for dinner, then?”

Kevin goes red. “Mom, you don’t have to-”

“I’d love to,” Mike says. His grip on Kevin’s hand tightens.

“Are you sure?” Kevin whispers, but Mike just gives him one of those exasperated looks and grins at Kevin’s mom.

“Wonderful,” she says. “I’ll just get Nick to make another space at the table for you. It’ll be about half an hour, so try not to get up to anything too scandalous. Frankie is just next door, you know.”

“ _Mom_ ,” Kevin groans, but she only drops him a shameless wink before strolling out of the room and leaving the door conspicuously open. His family is the worst, except for how they are kind of incredibly awesome.

Seriously. The _worst_.

“Are you sure about this?” he repeats, even though he knows his efforts are only going to earn him another one of Mike’s looks. “You have to meet my family now.”

“Are they as crazy as you are?” Mike asks, eyebrow quirked.

“They’re worse,” Kevin informs him, and Mike laughs.

“Awesome,” he says, except he sounds like he actually means it and that makes Kevin want to grin stupidly at him. He doesn’t, but it’s a very close thing.

“Thank you,” he says instead, squeezing Mike’s hand and smiling at him.

And when Mike smiles back, the hollowness in Kevin’s chest hasn’t gone, exactly, but it’s receded enough that he can ignore it, that he thinks it might even close up completely, one day. Maybe.

For now, though, the feeling of Mike’s hand in Kevin’s, of Mike’s fingers laced with his, is more than enough.

  
**{ end }**   


_’cause I am due for a miracle  
i’m waiting for a sign  
i’ll stare straight into the sun  
and i won’t close my eyes  
‘til i understand or go blind_   
**stare at the sun; thrice**


End file.
